IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


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CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagde 


□    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pelliculde 


D 


n 


n 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 


□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

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n 


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Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
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I — I    Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
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Pages  restored  and/oi 

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I      I  Pages  detached/ 

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This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film^  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous. 

18X  22X 


10X 


14X 


26X 


30X 


L 


12X 


16X 


20X 


7 


28X 


3 


32X 


Tiplaire 
Les  details 
iniques  du 
i/ent  modifier 
exiger  v'-is 
9  de  fi'mage 


J/ 

39 

xed/ 
piqu6es 


1/ 
jntaire 


ed  by  errata 
filmed  to 

ement 

ta,  une  pelure, 

de  fa^on  d 

ble. 


DX 


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first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
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The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — •«►  (meaning  "CON- 
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Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
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beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


1 

2 

3 

L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grdce  &  la 
g6n6ro8it6  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
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filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim6e  sont  filmds  en  commen^ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  teile 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitrb  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproauit  en  un  seul  clichd,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

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'•  1  want  to  we  my  happiness,"  he  said.     (See  page  327. ) 


(See  page  327. ) 


i!;;:R8ERT   GARDFNELi.     J& 


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.11 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


OR 


YENSIE'S  OLDEST  SON 


A    SEQUEL  TO  "  IIKRBKRT  CaRDENELL's  CIllLIiRKN 


BY 


MRS.  S.  R.  GRAHAM  CLARK 

Author   of  "  Yensie    IVallen,"   "  Yensie's  IVomnn/iooJ," 
"  TripU  '  A','  "  "  Achoi;"  etc. 


"  l«rd,  Thy  will  be  dons— not  this  or  that,  but  what  Thou  wilt." 

— Cliryioilom . 


BOSTON 

LOTHROP   PUBLISHING   COMPANY 

1895 


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I.OTIIROP  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 
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1 1      niimwr^wg  • 


Dr.  anh  Ittrs.  3-  Warren  tomtll, 

MY    KINO    KKIKNUS, 

THia    MX>K    IS    APFRCTIONATILV  DIDICATIO 

BY  THI  AUTHOR, 

MM.  I.   K.  C^A'.AM  CLARK. 


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CONTENTS. 

■*'  '  ' 

*r  CHAl'TKH  I. 

rAOB 
Al'HlI.   PiCTUBBB * 

CUAPTEB 
Unkxpfcted  Company 31 

CHAPTER  III. 
Dauk  Clouds 84 

CHAPTEK  IV. 
"  Foil  IIkbueut'b  Sakf  ' ' 17 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  Frbscbiption.  M 

CHAPTER  VI. 

SONH  OF  OXK   F  VTIIEK 07 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Ah  One  that  Sehveth TO 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

WlVII  TlIK    DOCTORB W 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Is  IT  A  Call  ? lOO 


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\,\ 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  X. 

PACK 

Ilia  MoTiiKu's  God Itl 

CHAPTER  XI. 
"  I  Don't  like  Questions  " 122 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Good-bye 133 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Dj:epeb  Life 141 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Two  SuiTOKs 149 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Afbica 159 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
An  Accident 173 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  ]Si£W  Feau 181 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Bordeic  Land 189 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Not  Africa  but  JEsirs 194 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Slipped  Unawares 201 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
His  Father's  Pulpit 2«9 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Lee's  Secret 216 


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111 

122 
133 
141 

149 
159 
173 
181 
189 
194 
201 
2«9 
216 


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10 


liEHBERT  OAhDENELL,  JR. 


"  This  moment,  do  you  mean,  Mumpsie  clear,  or 
some  future  moment  when  time  is  plenteous?" 
This  from  below. 

"  Now,  my  darling,  this  very  minute.  Put  off 
your  apron  and  come  up  to  me ;  just  for  a  little 
while,  please,"  coaxingly. 

"  Don't  wheedle  me,  Mumpsie  dea" ;  you  know 
I  can't  stand  it,"  answered  the  laughing  voice. 
"  I'd  like  to  be  obliging,  but  really  I  must  be 
excused.  '  Where  duty  calls  or  danger,' — you  can 
finish  the  rhyme  while  I  obey  it.  '  Work  is  press- 
ing, time  is  flying'— trite  but  true" — sotto  voce. 
"  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  be  your  own  company 
this  morning  or  descend  to  my  level." 

"Nonsense  1  I  want  to  borrow  you  for  a  while. 
Drop  your  work." 

"It  won't  drop,  it's  dough,  and  sticks!"  in 
comical  despair.  "Bread  and  pies,  dinner  and 
dessert,  cleanliness  and  order,  all  to  be  evolved 
from  genei-al  chaos  and  the  laws  of  evolution  in 
one  mortal's  hands.  Away  with  temptation  I 
I  can't  be  borrowed.  With  all  due  reverence, 
Mumpsie,  I  won't  be  borrowed,  no,  not  for  a  mo- 
ment," dramatically. 

"Fred,  how  can  you? "—the  weight  of  the 
rebuke  quite  lost  in  the  tremor  of  merriment  that 
shook  the  lady's  voice  as  she  shook  her  head  warn- 
ingly  at  the  laughing  youth  in  the  doorway. 

"  How  can  t/ou,  rather  ?  The  dough,  rising  in 
its  wrath,  threatens  to  overflow  the  pan ;  the  vege- 
tables beat  their  hands  and  turn  up  their  eyes  im- 


ion\^'AiaKeM*if^}:i~-^-  ^--~ 


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JR. 

impsie  dear,  or 
18  plenteous?" 

nute.     Put  off 
just  for  a  little 

ea" ;  you  know 
aughing  voice. 
illy  I  must  be 
iger,' — you  can 
Work  ispress- 
le" — sotto  voce. 
•  own  company 

!l." 

'ou  for  a  while. 

nd  sticks  ! "  in 
es,  dinner  and 
to  be   evolved 
of  evolution  in 
;h     temptation  I 
due   reverence, 
>,  not  for  a  mo- 
weight    of   the 
merriment  that 
:  her  head  warn- 
doorway. 
iough,  rising  in 
B  pan ;  the  vege- 
ip  their  eyes  im- 


APRIL  PICTURES. 


11 


ploring  my  attention,  and  wonder  with  me  at  such 
attempts  to  cabbage  my  time." 

"  Oooh  1 "  The  lady  thrust  a  finger  in  either 
ear,  but  the  prolonged  exclamation  was  only 
greeted  with  the  most  musical  of  laughs. 

**  Did  ever  anybody  hear  of  such  a  child  be- 
fore 1"  merry  dismay  in  the  questioner's  voice. 
Fred  you  are  naughty,  disobedient,  wilful.  I 
don't  want  you  ;  go  back  to  your  idols." 

Going,  going,  gone  1"  in  exact  imitation  of  an 
auctioneer's  tone,  accompanied  by  the  soft  rustle 
of  a  dress,  and  a  young  man  leaning  far  over  the 
balustrade  caught  just  a  glimpse  of  disappearing 
calico. 

"  She  has  gone  back  to  her  kitchen.  Shall  we 
retire  gmcefuUy  from  the  field  or  descend  and 
bring  her  up  bodily?  No,"  answering  her  own 
question,  "  the  child  is  busy.  I  forgot  there  was 
bread  to  mould  this  morning.  She  thinks  I  am 
coaxing  her  un  for  a  rest ;  I  do  sometimes.  She 
overworks  constantly ;  it  is  her  way,  and  1  have  to 
look  after  her.  No  matter,  my  turn  will  come 
when  she  finds  you  here.  She  hasn't  the  slightest 
idea  of  your  presence." 

And  the  fair-haired,  fresh-faced,  pretty  woman 
of  five-and,-forty  put  her  arm  through  that  of  the 
young  man,  and  leaning  fondly  on  him,  walked 
through  the  open  door  into  the  room  beyond. 

"Now,"  as  they  seated  themselves  in  the  cool 
parlor,  "  tell  me  about  your  mother  and  how  you 
happen  to  be  here." 


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HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


"  Mother  'vas  not  well  when  I  left  home,  has 
been  rather  poorly  for  some  time,"  answered 
Yensie's  son.  "  But  I  haven't  heard  a  word  from 
any  one  for  a  month  or  more." 

"  Herbert  Gardenell,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"  That  I  have  been  a  bohemian  for  some  time 
past,  here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow,  never  quite 
sure  where  I  would  be  next,  so  that  my  friends 
have  not  known  where  to  address  me." 

"  But  here — surely  they  would  write  you  here  ? 
And  there  hasn't  a  word  arrived." 

» No? "  with  a  laugh.  "That  isn't  wonderful, 
Aunt  Jessie,  though  I  am  half  afmid  to  tell  you 
why.  The  fact  is,  I  did  not  expect  to  come  here 
myself  two  days  ago." 

"  Herbert  Gardenell,  do  I  understand  you  ? 
Visit  the  West  and  not  come  to  us !  What  will 
your  uncle  say  ?  " 

"  O,  I'm  here.  Saying  is  useless  now.  You 
will  simply  have  to  make  the  best  of  me.  I  am 
doing  the  West  on  horseback,  and  for  my  health, 
and  am  not  expected  to  have  much  of  a  pro- 
gramme, or  to  pay  much  attention  to  the  proprie- 
ties. But,  really,  I  got  sick  for  a  bit  of  something 
homey,  so  I  came  to  you,  auntie." 

For  answer  auntie  aro  ,e,  and  walking  across  the 
room,  deliberately  hugged  the  speaker. 

"  I  should  never  have  forgiven  you  if  you  had 
not  come,  you  dear  duplicate  of  your  father. 
And  now  you  are  here  prepare  to  remain  awhile. 
Where  is  your  luggage  ?  " 


"■'sSfet^  '-iivifim 


fpp 


T^'smwWhWf 


JR. 

left  home,  has 
le,"  answered 
•d  a  word  from 

I  mean  ?  " 

loT  some  time 

w,  never  quite 

lat  my  friends 

e." 

rite  you  here  ? 

ii't  wonderful, 

lid  to  tell  you 

to  come  here 

lerstand  you  ? 
8 1    What  will 

ss  now.    You 

of  me.    I  am 

for  my  health, 

uch  of  a  pro- 

0  the  proprie- 
t  of  something 

cing  across  the 

:er. 

(Tou  if  you  had 

1  your  father, 
remain  awhile. 


APRIL  PICTURES. 


13 


"  TtMi  miles  distant.  I  just  ran  over  to  visit  a 
few  houi^.  A  friend  whom  I  have  picked  up  on 
my  journey  awaits  me  there." 

"  Let  him  wait,  or,  better,  come  here  and  join 
you.  I  give  you  my  word  you  shall  not  leave  us 
under  a  month,  and  may  as  well  surrender  to  your 
fate."     -■ 

"  Is  Aunt  Jessie  among  the  prophets  ?  "  asked 
the  j'oung  man  smilingly.  "  And  what  will  be- 
come of  my  riding  ?  " 

"  Riding  ?  — why,  you  can  pursue  that  under  my 
espionage.  Fred  is  a  superb  hoi-sewoman  and 
acquainted  with  all  the  finest  roads  about  here, 
and  they  are  not  few.  She  shall  introduce  you  to 
the  beauties  of  the  place.  It  has  changed  a  good 
deal  since  you  were  here.  Elsie  and  Marian  will 
be  home  in  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  you  can  see  us 
all  together." 

The  young  man  shook  his  head,  but  Mrs.  Rogers 
paid  no  attention  to  that.  She  only  drew  her 
cliair  up  to  his  side  and  inquired  into  the  cause  of 
his  poor  health. 

"  I'm  not  sure  I  have  poor  health,"  he  replied, 
"  I  think,  rather,  I  am  suffering  from  the  abuse  of 
good  health.  It  seems  absurd  for  a  great  fellow 
like  me  to  speak  of  illness.  The  fact  is  I  have 
overworked.  I  have  been  supplying  a  couple  of 
country  churches  and  serving  the  Mission  as  well. 
I  took  no  rest  after  graduation,  and — well.  Doctor 
Germaine  ordered  me  off  and  threatened  trouble 
if  he  saw  my  face  under  six  months.     Nothing 


i*      VBj 


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fm 


14 


IIKliUEHT  QAPDENELL,  JR. 


serious,  auntie,  but  "—ho  laid  \m  liand  gently  on  one 
of  hers—"  but  let  any  man  sink  himself  for  a  c(>uple 
of  years  in  tlie  slums  of  New  York  ;  wade  tiiiough 
its  slime,  allow  its  needs,  its  agonies  to  reach  hia 
heart,  and  it  will  take  much  of  God's  wide  world, 
the  open  stretches  of  earth  and  air,  to  restore  him. 
Sometimes  I  felt  myself  a  hundred  years  old— so 
fieighted  is  every  day  there  with  yeare  of  woe— 
and  only  the  Young  Man  at  the  right  hand  of  God 
kept  mo  by  His  Eternal  Youth   from  premature 
decay  and  death.     Aunt  Jessie,  the  burden  of  so 
many  sins  and  sorrows  weighed  me  down.     I  could 
not  seem  to  throw  it  off,  it  haunted  me  day  and 
night.     I  do  not  wonder  the  world's  sins  killed  the 
Son  of  God,  so  little  of  it  would  kill  me." 

"Is  ho  not  his  father's  son?"  said  Mrs.  Rogere, 
tears  in  her  eyes,  as  she  drew  his  liand  to  her 
lips. 

"  I  trust  he  is,"  replied  the  young,  man  much 
moved.  "  But,  Aunt  Jessie,  with  all  the  little 
resemblance  I  know  I  have  to  both  my  heavenly 
and  earthly  fathere,  I  have  learned  this  past  year 
how  much  I  lack  of  real  semblance  to  either. 
Nothing  so  humbles  mo  and  nothing  so  exalts  me, 
as  the  knowledge  that,  in  spite  of  my  deficiencies, 
I  am  still  a  son,  a  beloved  son,  and  that  I  bear 
the  family  likeness." 

Meanwhile,  downstairs  a  maiden  sang  as  she 
moulded  her  dough.  Hers  was  a  bright,  piquant, 
rather  than  beautiful  face:  the  cheeks  round  and 
dimpled,  the  brows  dark  and  arching,  the  mouth 


IP 


viwrSPm^^^^SlF" 


.L,  JR. 

landgeittl^'onone 
inself  for  a  c(>uple 
k  ;  wade  tiuough 
nies  to  reach  his 
fod's  wide  world, 
ir,  to  restore  hiin. 
3d  yeara  ohl — so 
I  yeare  of  woe — 
ight  liand  of  God 
from  premature 
he  burden  of  so 
3  down.     I  could 
ited  me  day  and 
I'a  sins  killed  the 
kill  me." 
aid  Mrs.  Rogei-s, 
tiis  hand  to  her 

mug,  man  much 
;h  all  the  little 
ith  my  heavenly 
id  this  past  year 
lance  to  either, 
ng  so  exalts  me, 
my  deficiencien, 
find  that  I  bear 

en  sang  as  she 
bright,  piquant, 
eeks  round  and 
ling,  the  mouth 


CTBlaWtorj^  ti.-*ii. 


APRIL  PICTURES. 


15 


large  and  mobile,  with  teeth  as  white  as  milk  when 
it  opened  in  the  laugh  so  natuml  to  it. 

The  hair,  off  of  the  low  brow,  had  a  glow  about 
it,  a  dash  of  red  that  made  it  warm  and  admimbly 
fitted  it  to  the  face  beneath,  to  which  it  dung  in 
little  natural  puffs  and  rings.  The  gray  eyes  had 
the  same  suggestion  of  color  about  tlunr  usually 
merry  depths,  though  just  now  the}'  were  grave 
enough  with  the  thought  tl    t  filled  them. 

"  I  wish  I  was  like  this  dough,  white  and  pli- 
able, unspotted  a:id  easily  moulded  to  His  will," 
she  thought.  "  I  want  to  lie  good,  I  try,  but  I 
don't  succeed,"  with  a  sigh.  "  I  am  just  a  blun- 
derer. T  wonder  if  mother  leally  needs  me?  I  am 
sure  this  bread  needs  moulding.  I  wonder  over 
so  many  things,  am  sure  of  so  few.  If  I  were 
yielded  wholly  to  God's  will  iliould  I  not  know  it 
better  ?  But  now  I  know  so  little  only  " — and 
here  the  sunny  smile  chased  away  every  vestige 
of  shadow — "  only  I  know  He  loves  me  and  I  love 
Him."     And  then,  clear  as  a  bird's  trill, 

"  O  what  a  wonder  that  Jesus  loves  me," 

rang  out  on  the  morning  air. 

"  Whatsoever  ye  do  in  word  or  deed,  do  all  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus," — that  had  been  her 
verse  this  morning.  She  pondered  the  little-big 
adverb  as  she  lovingly  jiatted  the  loaves  nnd 
dropped  them  in  the  waiting  tins. 

"  All !  "  Could  it  mean  the  bread,  the  dessert 
her  father  loved ?    "I  make  that  for  father,  not 


miAJMuimiitmm^^ 


le 


IlKIilfKRT  aARDKNELL,  JR. 


i    i 


for  Jesus."  Tho  white  brows  coming  togetlicr. 
"  ()uf(lit  it  to  Ihj  for  JeHUH?  How  caul  do  tint 
in  Iliu  name  ?  " 

She  had  tho  sugar  and  butter  in  the  bowl,  and 
as  she  worked  them  soft  lier  thoughts  ran  on. 

"I  nugiit  Hiiy  gnveo  over  it.  I  often  ask  Jesus 
to  make  it  turn  out  good.  It  is  so  nice  to  liavo 
Him  in  everything.  I  wish  I  always  rememl)ered. 
This  pudding,  this  bread,  in  Thy  name,  Jesus," 
and  then  she  broke  foith  into  song  again. 

George  Rogers'  farm  had  added  to,  yes,  nearly 
doubled  itself,  in  tho  ten  yeai-s  since  Herlwrt 
Gardenell — then  a  mere  liid — had  visited  it  last. 
A  natural  fanner,  proud  of  his  calling  and  his 
estate,  everything  was  in  the  highest  state  of 
cultivation,  and  miglit  well  delight  the  most  inex- 
j)erieneed  e3'c.  Acre  after  acre  of  precious  grain 
Btretched  away  on  every  side,  fruit  was  abundant, 
vegetibles  not  hicking.  IJut  tho  sUiple  market- 
product  was  wheat. 

The  house  was  large,  square,  and  commodious, 
without  any  outwo'/d  adornment,  but  with  an 
unmistakable  air  of  sulstantial  comfort  and  ele- 
gance. It  was  remov(!d  a  distance  from  tlu;  st.able8 
and  out-buildings,  and  stood  on  a  little  knoll,  from 
v/hich  sloperl  away  on  either  side  the  front  graded 
lawns,  beautifully  green  and  smooth. 

Behind  the  house  the  land  fell  away  more 
abruptly,  bringing  the  work-rooms  in  the  basement. 
Not  so  bad  a  thing  when  windows  and  doors 
opened  directly  upon  so  much  loveliness. 


Mmm 


immnwHiiuinBiiii'i  rt  niwm 


|"'fJU,l!'!l 


Am 


^M 


rn. 


APttlh  PICTrilKS. 


\1 


ling  togt'tlier. 
ciui  I  do  U>it 

the  Ixivvl,  and 
M  run  on. 
ton  iwk  JcHiiH 
)  nice  to  havo 
H  renieml)ere(l. 
naine,  Jesus," 
gain. 

to,  yes,  nearly 
since  Ilorlwrt 
visited  it  last. 
.Uing  and  his 
jlicst  stato  of 
the  most  inex- 
precions  grain 
was  abundant, 
staple  niarkut- 

I  commodious, 
hut    with    an 

Tifoit  and  ele- 
roni  the  sUvhles 
;tle  knoll,  from 
le  front  graded 

II  away  more 
I  the  basement. 
ws  and  doors 
iness. 


No  rooms  in  the  house  had  liner  views  or  more 
refreshing,  n8  the  veruant  Hloiieti  merged  in  the 
orchard  l^vjond  where  the  birds  sang  all  day  the 
hununer  long,  and  spring  blossoms  shed  their 
licauty  and  fnigrance.  'l"ho  tlowcr-garden,  too, 
was  on  that  side  of  the  house  and  added  its  rain- 
bow of  color  to  the  general  iKMiuty. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Itogem  were  hcaity,  social,  l)enev- 
oleiit,  large-hearted,  and  their  dwelling  seemed 
somehow  to  pai-tuke  of  these  qualities.  Every 
room  in  the  house  was  large  and  light  and  cheery; 
the  upper  ones  with  windows  reaching  to  the 
flooi-s  and  opening  on  to  the  verandahs,  and  every 
appointment  suggestive  of  wealth  and  comfort. 

Hut  neither  parlor,  library,  drawing-room,  nor 
chaml)er  could  outvie,  in  the  estimation  of  the 
women  of  the  family,  the  long,  Inight,  cheerful 
dining-room  finished  and  furnished  in  oak,  itM 
dainty  table  laid  in  silver  and  china;  or  the 
kitchen  l)eyond  with  its  yellow  floor,  llecked  with 
Hunshine,  and  its  polished  range  reflecting  all 
its  surroundings,  or  the  par.try  with  its  rows  of  tins 
and  its  screened  window  opening  on  the  wide- 
spread loveliness  without. 

This  was  Nason's  domain,  the  one  maid — for  in 
a  family  of  gir^^  no  more  was  needed.  And  never 
maid  better  appreciated  the  dignity  of  her  position 
than  this  western  spinster  who  ruled  supreme, 
graciously  permitting  the  ladies  of  the  household 
to  assist  her  when  they  so  pleased,  though  she  by 
no  means  considered  their  help  necessary.     She 

2 


'?H 


fciiiiiiiaiiilBiiiiiiirfi  ]i„ 


m 


liiiMiiinifiiiii 


I  ^ 


18 


IIKIIHKHT  UAltDKSKLL,  JR. 


f 


pi'uft)i'i't'<l  {\n>y  hIiouUI  keep  in  their  own  pvrt  of 
tlio  OHtiibliHliiiitiiit,  wiiich  hIi»  tlucliiiu*!  wan  alM>ve 
Ntaira.  Itidfud  NiiHon  vviih  just  a  little  j»alouH  of 
iiitorferennu,  and  mtlier  r«H(*ntud  the  favor  with 
which  her  young  nuHtrcHs'H  new  dcparturcH  in 
cookery  were  met. 

Hut  Nason  wivs  not  thero  to  frown  or  HUggeHt 
tluH  morning.  The  slight  figure  in  ilH  neat  print 
dreHs,  with  arms  niadt!  Iiure  to  the  dimpled  ('IIh)wh, 
and  hiiir  pushed  hack  from  its  iluHhed  face,  was 
not  Molly  Nason'H.  She  never  had  Nuch  Hmiling 
lips  and  tender,  brooding  eyes.     To  Molly  Niwon 

"  A  primrose  by  the  river  brim, 

A  yelluw  primrose  wnn 

And  It  was  tiolliing  more." 

But  Nason — as  she  in«i.sted  on  being  called,  Molly 
M'lis  so  common — was  having  a  week's  vacation  to 
attend  her  brother's  wedding,  and  Miss  Fred,  her 
rival  in  all  culinary  affairs,  was  having  her  own 
sweet  will  without  let  or  hindrance. 

And  nature  was  having  its  own  sweet  will  also, 
as  this  pretty,  girlish  bit  of  humanity  well  knew, 
iis,  mixing  s{)oon  in  hand,  she  looked  forth  on  the 
beauty  spreading  out  from  the  window  near  which 
she  worked. 

The  spring  was  wide  awake  this  April  day.  She 
heard  its  voice  in  the  chipper  of  birds  and  caught 
its  glance  through  the  opening  apple-blossoms,  and 
saw  it  nod  as  daffodils  .ind  tulips  greeted  each 
other  and  an  early  dandelion  lifted  its  face  to  the 


miiiiiiii 


Xrr 


ArniL  PICTURKM. 


own   i»»fit  of 
j<l  WHM  iiIkivo 

tlo    j*-llloil8  of 

0  favor  with 
'imrtures   in 

or    HlljrpeHt 

H  ntrnt  print 
ii|>U;(l  cIIkjwh, 
h'aI  fiico,  wiw 
sinh  Hmiling 
Wolly  Nitton 


called,  Molly 
'h  vacation  to 
'iss  Fred,  lier 
ing  her  own 

'eet  will  also, 

y  well  knew, 

forth  on  tlie 

w  near  which 

ril  day.  She 
s  and  caught 
blossoms,  and 
greeted  each 
i  face  to  the 


hluu  Hky.  All  nature  Heeniud  joining  the  hymn 
that  full  from  the  niaiden'rt  li|M,  and  !\n  artittt  niiglit 
well  have  iittHitatud,  iiad  ho  i)cen  deHiring  to  paint 
a  synilK)!  of  spring,  Wlween  the  April  face  in  the 
pantry  window  and  the  April  scene  on  which  uhe 
gazed. 

Hut  lIuH  girl  wait  no  idler.  TIt>r  dainty  flngent 
kept  time  witli  the  rhythm  of  her  song,  and  ere  long 
the  bread  was  in  the  oven  and  the  dusseit  set  away 
to  cool,  looking  delicious  enough  to  tempt  the  most 
capricious  appetite. 

Knergetic  women  are  generally  systematic. 
Fred  had  her  plans  laid  for  to^lay's  work,  and  dis- 
liked to  be  thwarted  in  an  undertaking.  She  had 
set  her  lieait  on  the  cleansing  and  rearranging  of 
the  serving  man's  chamber;  it  must  Ikj  in  order 
before  Nason's  return.  The  young  lady  had  not 
been  impressed  with  the  maid's  nniiuier  of  caring 
for  the  room,  and  had  gathered  a  liost  of  little 
knick-knacks  to  brighten  its  appearance.  She 
meant  to  l)egin  with  broom  and  mop  as  soon  tia 
the  frosting  for  her  dessert  was  ])repared. 

Alas  for  her  scheming  I  As  she  dealt  the  sugar 
into  the  whites  of  her  eggs  her  song  went  up,  up, 
until  it  penetmted  to  where  two  people  sat  talk- 
ing. 

"  She's  a  jewel,"  said  the  lady.  "  I  could  not 
do  without  her.  Now  that  Nason  is  gone  I  am  cer- 
tain there  wouldn't  be  anything  in  this  house  fit  to 
eat  if  it  wasn't  for  Fred,  thanks  to  my  bringing  up. 
Oh  I   the  time  I  had  when  I  was  first  married  and 


m 


so  llERliERT  GAIWEXELL,  JR. 

my  girl  suddenly  left  me.  Your  uncle  was  a  mar- 
tyr. He  ate  what  was  set  before  him,  asking  no 
questions,  for  his  wife's  sake,  and  making  no  com- 
ments, thougii  I  will  not  say  he  did  not  occasionally 
make  a  wry  face.  I  have  my  place,  but  it  isn't  at 
the  cook-stove.  Never  many  a  society  girl,  Her- 
bert. She  may  do  the  best  she  can  for  you,  but  I 
fear  she'll  fail  you  on  bread 

"I'veuisisted  on  all  my  girls  learning  a  111  tie 
al)Out  housekeeping,  c  ven  Marian.  You  remenj^>er 
Marian,  don't  you — my  little  speckled  gosling? 
She  is  just  as  smart  as  your  father  predicted  she 
would  be.  It  will  always  be  a  marvel  to  me  where 
that  child  got  her  brains.  She  is  oft'  geologizing 
with  a  party  of  friends.  Fred  thought  this  was 
the  time  to  spare  Nason,  who  needed  a  rest  and 
liad  a  brother  about  to  be  married,  though  I  fancy 
our  acquiescence  would  have  made  little  difference 
in  her  plans  after  she  once  decided  them.  It  is 
only  three  days  since  she  started,  and  it  seems  like 
a  montli.  My  poor  little  chick  will  be  pretty 
closely  confined  until  her  return.  It  almost  seems 
a  revenge  of  fate  when  one  remembei-s  that  I  named 
Fred  in  desperate  determination  that  there  should 
be  one  boy  in  the  family.  I  ought  to  have  called 
her  Benjamin  rather,  or  something  like  it,  some- 
thing that  would  express  the  feminine  of  the  son 
of  my  right  hand.  Let  us  go  down  and  find  her, 
Herbert." 


JR. 


UNEXPECTED  COMPANY. 


icle  was  a  mar- 
him,  asking  no 
laking  no  com- 
lot  occasionally 
I  but  it  isn't  at 
ciety  girl,  Her- 
i  for  you,  but  I 

jarniug  a  liltle 
You  reraenj^>er 
;kled  gosling  ? 
r  predicted  she 
el  to  me  where 
)ff  geologizing 
ught  this  was 
ded  a  rest  and 
though  I  fancy 
ittle  difference 
d  them.  It  is 
id  it  seems  like 
will  be  pretty 
[t  almost  seems 
1*3  that  I  named 
,t  there  should 
to  have  called 
like  it,  some- 
ine  of  the  son 
1  and  find  her, 


CHAPTER  II. 


UNEXPECTED  COMPANY. 


"  A  spirit  all  sunshine,  giaceful  from  very  gladness,  bepuci- 
ful  because  bright." 

— Cablyle. 

Once  below  stairs,  the  young  man  was  stationed 
in  the  entry  while  the  lady  sought  her  daughter. 
Through  the  open  door,  across  the  long,  cool  din- 
ing-room and  kitchen,  his  eye  caught  a  glimpse  of 
the  bright  picture  in  the  pantry  beyond. 

Bright!  That  was  exactly  the  word  that  ex- 
pressed the  univei-sal  impression  this  young  lady 
made  on  everybody.  There  was  a  warmth,  a  glow, 
a  color  about  her  that  cheered  and  enthused  the 
beholder  instinctively,  and  brightened  the  very 
spot  she  occupied.  Her  mother  often  said  laugh- 
ingly that  the  only  thing  needed  to  make  a  dark 
room  light  was  to  bring  Frodrica  into  it. 

And  now  the  piquant  face  peeped  from  the  pan- 
try door  as  her  mother  advancing,  called  her 
name.  Flushed,  sparkling,  with  a  suggestion  of 
mischief  in  the  eyes  and  a  hint  of  defiance  in  the 
voice,  she  said,  "  Here,"  as  if  answering  to  a  roll- 
call. 


UI»llll|iiaj|lUllll«i>il*»iii«i:uiu»ii^.wiMiiiM 


H  HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR.  i^ 

"  Muinpsie's  poor  little  giii !  her  precious  little 
drudge !  her  owiitiest  daughter  I " 

"  Oh  I  what  a  wheedle  wee  it  is  ! "  with  a  ring, 
ing  laugh  as  two  lips  were  lifted  to  the  mother's 
face.  "  What  does  it  want,  that  it  begins  so  judi- 
ciously ?  " 

"  Only  its  very  ownest  daughter  to  come  up  and 
brighten  the  lonesomeness  of  the  parloi-s." 

"  Selfish  Mumpsie  I  It  can  only  be  done  at  the 
sacrifice  of  duty.  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  your- 
self ?  "  as  the  egg-lieater  whisked  back  and  forth 
with  merry  recklessness. 

"  But  I  will  help  you  by-and-by.  It  is  early 
yet — I  only  want  you  a  moment." 

"And  the  little  moments, 
Humble  tlioii;     they  be, 
Make  the  mighty  ages 
Of  Eternity." 

sang  the  maiden,  testing  the  stiffness  of  her  frost- 
ing. 

"  But,  darling,  there's  something  special — a 
great  treat  in  store  for  you." 

Two  hands  were  placed  quickly  over  two  eara, 
as  Fred  darted  away,  singing,  "  Yield  not  to 
temptation."  She  came  Kick  into  sight  presently, 
her  precious  pudding  in  her  hands.  "  You  may 
have  a  peep,  mamma,"  she  said. 

"  We  have  company,  Fred." 

"No!"  a  look  of  real  dismay,  as  the  face 
sobered  for  an  instant. 


JR. 
precious  little 

"  with  a  ring- 
)  the  mother's 
begins  so  judi- 

3  come  up  and 

■lore." 

be  done  at  the 

imed  of  your- 

ack  and  forth 

r.    It  is  early 


UNEXPECTED  COMPANV, 


23 


18  of  her  frost- 

ig    special — a 

iver  two  eare, 

Yield   not   to 

ght  presently, 

"  You  may 


as  the  face 


"  A  gentleman." 

"  Tut,"  a  laugh  dimpling  the  fiice,  "  there 
isn't  such  an  article  within  ten  miles  of  this  place, 
papa  excepted."  And  a  smile  drifted  over  the 
grave  face  in  the  entry. 

"Hush-h-h!" 

"  Oh,  he  can't  hear.  He's  deaf  in  one  ear,  and 
can't  see  out  of  the  other  eye." 

The  tone  of  the  girl's  voice  stirred  the  risibles 
of  the  listener  until  he  feared  detection. 

"Fred!" 

"  Oh,  it's  no  use  to  say  Fred  to  me  under  such 
circumstances.  Don't  I  know  who  it  is?  I 
despise  him.  Sunshine !  What  do  you  need  of 
sunshine,  when  you  have  the  full  moon  already 
shining  in  the  room  above  ?  I  will  not  see  him, 
and  that's  the  whole  of  it.  I'm  sick  of  his 
dangling  after  me,  and  '  dear  Fredricaing '  me. 
I'm  not  dear,  and  I  hate  Fredrica  when  he  pro- 
nounces it,  and  he'd  better  be  about  his  work  if 
he  has  any,  and  if  he  hasn't  he'd  better  go  to 
Jamaica  or  Australia  and  find  some.  The  very 
sight  of  his  big  round  face  and  washed-out  eyes 
turns  my  stomach,  there  I "  and  the  speaker 
dropped  the  last  spoonful  of  frosting  on  her  pud- 
ding with  decision.  ^  » ^ 

"Fredrical"  <i:        ' 

"  Yes,  marm." 

"  What  makes  you  such  a  rattle-brain  ?  " 

"  I'm  not.  I'm  a  sensible  girl,  and  the  moment 
I  get  the  bread  out  of  the  oven,  I'm  going  to 


1 


tl 


84 


UKlittERT  VAHDENELL,  JR. 


leave  this  liouse  to  your  tender  mercies,  and  run 
across  lots  to  help  father.  You  can  boil  the  Vf;g- 
etables  while  you  entertain  Sila  ^  Crowden." 

"  Silas  Crowden  isn't  here  to  be  entertained." 

"  Thank  goodness  1  I  hope  something  awful 
will  happen  to  him  if  he  ever  looks  this  way 
again." 

"  Is  that  right,  ducksie  ?  " 

"  No,  it's  wrong,  but  I  should  have  to  mean  it 
if  it  was  twice  wrong." 

"I  forgot  it  until  this  minute,  Fredrica,  but 
your  father  told  me  last  night,  when  he  came 
home  from  the  village,  that  Silas  had  slow  ty- 
phoid fever,  and  was  likely  to  be  confined  to  the 
house  for  six  or  eight  weeks." 

The  girl  danced  a  pirouette,  catching  her 
mother  about  the  waist,  and  whirling  over  the 
kitchen  floor. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  be  so  wicked,"  she  cried,  breath- 
lessly, "  but  I  can't  lament  his  loss.  He  will  have 
to  submit  to  Miss  Serena's  gruels  and  graces  at 
last,  and  it  is  hoped  will  note  and  appreciate  her 
devotion,  and  accept  the  inevitable.  Mumpsie, 
what  a  charming  woman  you  are  !  I  adore  you ! 
you  make  me  happy  1  Shall  I  run  upstairs  and 
play  you  a  tune  to  emphasize  my  appreciation  and 
devotion  ?  "  And  suiting  her  action  to  her  words, 
the  merry  girl  waltzed  across  the  dining-i-oom, 
through  the  hall,  and  bounded  over  the  stairs 

Some  one,  who  had  stepped  aside  quickly,  and 
hidden  behind  the  entry  door,  followed,  leisurely 


■i,iji.!.'e4<tJMijiiiBJa 


HRMMMfMMI 


Biiiia 


mm 


JR. 

ercies,  and  run 
u  boil  the  Vfg- 
"owden." 
entertftined." 
inething  awful 
looks   thia  way 


ave  to  mean  it 

,  Fredrica,  but 
when  he  came 
IS  had  slow  ty- 
confined  to  the 

catching    her 
irling  over  the 

le  cried,  breath- 
He  will  have 
and  graces  at 
appreciate  her 
)le.      Mumpsie, 
I  adore  you! 
in  upstairs  and 
ippreciation  and 
)n  to  her  words, 
le   dining-room, 
r  the  stairs 
ie  quickly,  and 
lowed,  leisurely 


UNEXPECTED  COMPANY. 


m 


and  quietly,  after  the  sounds  of  tlie  piano  assured 
him  he  could  enter  the  parlor  unperceived.  She 
was  singing,  "  Mi-s.  Lofty  has  her  cuniage,"  as  he 
slipped  up  behind  her  and  beside  her  mother,  who 
greeted  him  with  a  smile. 

"  There  1 "  with  a  twirl  of  the  piano-stool,  "  I've 

almost    forgotten "   then   waves    of   crimson 

swept  neck  and  face  as  she  met  the  gravely 
amused  eyes  of  the  stranger. 

"This  is  the  gentleman  I  told  you  had  come, 
Fredrica — ^jour  Cousin  Herbert,"  said  her  mother. 

The  girl  was  almost  reassured  by  the  cordial 
greeting  and  warm  hand-clasp.  After  all,  he  had 
not  heard  a  word  of  her  nonsense  a  while  ago. 
That  was  a  comfort,  and  she  rallied  her  courage. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  Cousin  Herbert," 
she  said,  demurely. 

"  And  yet  unwilling  to  spare  a  moment  of  your 
precious  time  to  welcome  me,"  he  replied. 

"I  did  not  know  you  had  come.  That  was 
mamma's  fault,"  shaking  her  head  at  that  lady. 

"She  is  not  much  changed,  is  she,  Herbert? 
A  trifle  larger,  perhaps." 

"  Not  much  !  "  in  utmost  surprise.  "  I  should 
never  have  known  I  had  met  this  young  lady 
before.  Aunt  Jessie."  The  young  man's  glance 
was  certainly  flattering. 

"  I  see  you  are  not  much  changed  in  feature," 
said  Fredrica,  turning  the  conversation  from  her- 
self, "  now  that  I  have  a  good  look  at  you ;  but 
how  tall  you   have  grown,  clear  beyond  papa. 


,* 


M 


nEUUERT  GAHDENELL,  JR. 


")!  i! 


Mamma,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  Cousin  Herbert 
had  come  ?  gentleman  ia  such  an  appalling  title." 

Herbert  laughed.  Everybody  laughed  at  Fred, 
because  she  said  things  in  a  way  so  unlike  any- 
body except  herself. 

"  Your  cousin  will  hardly  understand  you,  my 
dear,"  smiled  mamma. 

"  I  am  willing   to  be  misunderstood  until  he 

gets  acquainted  with  the  masculines   of   N . 

You  are  going  to  make  us  a  goo<l  long  visit,  I 
trust." 

"  As  long  as  you  will  keep  me,"  replied  Mr. 
Gardenell,  surprising  himself  and  the  plans  laid 
so  recently  to  go  farther  west  in  a  few  days,  and 
Aunt  Jessie  smiled  significantly. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  company  gathered  in  the 
parlor  again  after  dinner  had  been  discussed,  and 
George  Rogers's  face  shone  with  satisfaction. 

"  You  look  exactly  as  your  father  did  when  I  first 
met  him,  and  you  must  be  somewhere  near  the 
age  he  was  then.  It  makes  me  feel  young  just  to 
see  you.  It  was  out  at  the  corner  he  held  his 
meetings  and  led  me  to  Christ.  I  shall  never  l)e 
able  to  pay  the  debt  I  owe  him.  How  I  should 
like  to  look  into  his  face.  I  suppose  he  isn't  much 
changed." 

"Not  to  me,  sir.  He  neither  grows  old  nor 
feeble,  and  I  don't*  believe  there's  a  gray  thread  in 
his  hair." 

"  And  your  mother?  Not  well,  you  say?  My, 
my,  how  time  passes.    I  haven't  seen  her  for  yeara, 


Tps- 


JR. 


UNEXPECTED  COMPANY, 


27 


Cousin  Herbert 
ppalliug  title." 
lughed  at  Fred, 
so  unlike  any- 

irstand  you,  my 

rstood  until  he 

ines  of  N . 

o<l  long  visit,  I 

e,"  replied  Mr. 
.  the  plans  laid 
a  few  days,  and 

gathered  in  the 
1  discussed,  and 
itisf action. 
p  did  when  I  first 
where  near  the 
el  young  just  to 
ler  he  held  his 
I  shall  never  he 
How  I  should 
)se  he  isn't  much 

grows  old  nor 
a  gray  thread  in 

,  you  say?    My, 
sen  her  for  yeara, 


but  I  never  think  of  her  as  any  other  than  the 
young  thing  I  used  to  hold  in  my  arms  and  com- 
fort when  Aunt  Sally  Walton  was  trying  her  soul. 
I've  had  many  a  heartache  over  her,  but  not  one 
since  the  hour  she  took  her  stand  beside  the  man 
who  would  die  to  make  her  happy.  Young  man, 
your  father  and  mother  were  the  hero  and  heroine 
of  the  only  real  romance  we  ever  saw  lived  out, 
Jessie  and  I." 

"  And  the  only  one  I  ever  wish  to  see  lived," 
said  Aunt  Jessie.  "  It  isn't  eivsy  to  live  romances," 
she  added,  "  I'd  rather  read  them." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  was  Mr.  Rogers's 
reply.  "  There's  something  so  substantial,  so  sat- 
isfactory, when  the  plot  works  out  right  in  the 
real  article,  that  we  forget  all  that  lay  between." 

But  Mrs.  Rogei-s  shook  her  head.  "I  don't 
easily  forget,"  she  answered.  "The  heartache 
and  the  heart-break  were  real  also,  and  so  were  the 
long,  dark  years.     Women  are  not  men,  George." 

Her  husband  smiled.  "  There's  one  little  girl- 
woman  among  all  you  ministerial  boys,"  he  said 
kindly,  "little  Olive.  She  was  a  bivby  in  arms 
when  I  last  saw  her.  Let  me  see,  she  must  be 
somewhere  near  Fred's  age." 

"  Twenty-one  last  bii-thday,"  said  Herbert. 

"Is  it  possible?  Then  she's  a  year  older  than 
puss  here." 

And,  "Is  it  possible!"  echoed  Mrs.  Rogers. 
"  She  was  only  a  wee  thing  in  short  dresses  and 
sashes  when  I  was  last  in  New  York.     Do  you  re- 


■  ■m-rjl 


HERBERT  QARDENELL,  JR. 


nicinber,  IleilMJit,  how  she  refused  to  let  mo  tie 
her  liair-riblwii  over  Ixjcausoyon  luid  made  the  V)ow 
and  Healed  it  with  a  kiss?  The  quaintest  little 
h'iMch  of  sweetness,  and  so  devoted  to  her 
brothel's." 

"  She  hasn't  clmnged  a  bit  in  that  respect,  and 
hiw  only  impn,ved  in  every  other,"  replied  the 
gentleman. 

"  There's  a  brother  for  you,"  laugl  1  the  lady. 
"  Fred,  how  would  you  like  such  a  cli    npion?" 

The  young  lady  shook  her  head.  "Don't  ask, 
mammu;  it's  Iwyond  me  and  takes  too  great  a 
stretch  of  fancy.  Cousin  Herbert  is  the  oldest 
child  in  his  father's  familj ,  and  at  the  head  of  the 
column,  and  cannot  have  the  slightest  idea  of  how 
uncomfortable  a  middle  place  may  be.  When 
there's  so  many  before  one  it's  hard  to  find  oppor- 
tunities for  even  the  imagination  to  sprout.  Think," 
with  a  doleful  little  sigh,  "  how  any  of  you  would 
feel  to  sit  and  hear  these  delightful  people  dis- 
cussed and  realize  you  had  never  seen  one  of  them. 
There's  Olive.  I've  wanted  to  see  her  all  my  life, 
but  my  turn  to  go  Efist  never  came." 

"  It  will,  birdie,"  said  Papa  Rogci-s,  comfort- 
ingly.    "  When  I  go  you  shall  go  with  me." 

"  Oh,  papa,  I've  taken  that  soothing  dmught  so 
often  it  no  longer  has  any  effect.  I  have  lost  all 
faith  in  the  coming  age  of  '  when.'  " 

"  It  will  appear,  nevertheless,"  replied  papa. 
"  We'll  make  it  come,  if  need  be." 

"  Indeed  we  will,"  added  Herbert.     "  I'll  try 


li 


I 


^%J 


JR. 

to  lut  mo  tie 
i  made  the  V)ow 
quiuntest  little 
ivoted    to    lier 

lat  respect,  and 
r,"  replied  the 


U  If  EXPECTED  COMPANY. 


» 


igl     1  the  lady.        > 
cl)    iipioK?" 
,     "Don't  ask, 
es  too  great  a 
t  is  the  oldest 
ihe  head  of  the 
est  idea  of  liow 
ay  be.      When        " 
I  to  find  oppor-    , 
prout.   Think," 
y  of  you  would 
ful  people  dis- 
en  one  of  them, 
her  all  my  life, 

Dgci-s,  comfort- 
vith  me." 
ling  dmught  so 
I  have  lost  all 

replied  papa. 

ert.     "I'll  try       '" 


my  hand  at  it;  and  I'm  pemistent,  when  I  set  out. 
In  the  meanwhile,  you  must  comfort  yourself  with 
knowing  me.  I  wonder  if  you  rememlKjr  when  I 
wfws  hero  l)efore,  as  well  as  I  do  ?  I  can  see  just 
how  you  used  to  look.  Such  a  wee  girl  in  short 
dresses,  and  with  shoithair  parted  on  one  side,  and 
always  determined  to  Iw  counted  in  with  the  boys." 

"  That  was  mamma's  fault. ,  She  almost  made 
me  believe  I  was  a  boy." 

"  Aunt  Jessie,"  continued  her  nephew,  "  you  al- 
most took  away  my  breath  this  morning,  when 
this  dainty  little  woman  appeared,  by  saying,  so 
innocently:  'Not  much  changed,  is  she,  Her- 
liert?'" 

The  lady  laughed  and  looked  her  daughter  over 
approvingly.  "She's  her  mother's  right  hand," 
she  said. 

"  And  l)oth  her  father's,"  added  that  gentleman. 
Whereupon  the  maiden  arose  immediately,  and, 
going  to  his  side,  placed  a  kiss  on  his  forehead. 

"One  might  think  Olive  was  here,"  laughed 
Herbert.  "That  is  the  way  she  rewards  her  favor- 
ites for  their  praises." 

Awhile  later,  after  Mr.  Rogei'S  had  returned  to 
the  farm,  and  Fred  to  the  kitchen  and  dinner 
dishes,  Mrs.  Rogei-s  had  much  to  say  to  her  com- 
panion. 

"Perhaps  you  think  it  stmnge  I  never  took 
Fredrica  with  me  when  going  East,"  she  said, 
"  but,  the  fact  is,  she  couldn't  be  spared.  She  and 
I  both  away  at  once  would  be  more  than  your 


tU' 


mMni 


im 


i 


i'A 


I 


!ii 


i'\ 


M  IlERttKRT  GARDENKLL,  JR. 

uncle  could  bear.  She  hott  always  been  Iuh  pot, 
■  liesidoH  being  a  natuml  houHewife  and  care-taker. 
Tliink  of  it  1  The  ono  I  selected  for  my  lx)y  to 
develop  such  feminine  tendencies  I  and  that  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  I  parted  her  liair  on  one  side 
until  she  resented  it.  Well,  !  am  resigned  to 
fiite  I " 

"  Elsie  is  our  bookworm.  It  is  a  blessing  she 
has  found  a  man  after  her  own  heart.  I  suppose 
you  know  she  is  engaged  to  Professor  Samuel 
Stewart?" 

"  Yes,  you  wrote  mamma  and  she  told  ino. 
You  remember  Elsie  was  Ray's  ideal  ?  " 

'•  Yes,  the  dear  Iwy.  Then  Marian — I  want 
you  to  see  Marian, — she's  my  baby  and  of  course 
wonderful  in  her  mother's  eyes.  Siio  is  not  as 
homely  as  she  used  to  Ihj,  but  she  is  just  as  curi- 
ous, and  what  she  doesn't  investigate  isn't  worth 
tlie  trouble.  If  she  had  been  a  boy  she  would 
certainly  have  been  an  explorer  or  discoverer. 
As  it  is — think  of  it,  Herbert,  and  tlie  child  not 
out  of  her  teens ! — she  has  the  audacity  to  like 
Roy  Burton.  You  remember  Tom, — well,  Roy  is 
his  brother  and  not  twenty  yet.  He  is  not  a 
student  like  Tom.  Mrs.  Burton  says  your  sum- 
mer here  spoiled  Tom  for  everything  but  college. 
But  Roy  likes  the  farm  and  will  probably  settle 
hei-e,  which  will  be  one  comfort  if  Marian  and  he 
continue  to  like  each  other. 

"  But  there,  I  began  on  Fred  and  here  I  am 
stranded  on  Marian.     I  wanted  to  tell  you  about 


- ..  * 


I  been  hiti  pet, 
fti'.d  care-t«ker. 
.  for  iijy  lx)y  to 
I  and  that  in 
air  on  one  side 
m   re8ignod  to 

a  blessing  she 
wt.  I  suppose 
•fessor   Samuel 

she  told  mo. 
,1?" 

arian — I  want 
'  and  of  course 

Siio  is  not  as 
is  just  as  curi- 
lite  isn't  worth 
x)y  she  would 

or   discoverer. 

tlie  child  not 
iidacity  to  like 
— well,  Roy  is 
He  is  not  a 
aya  your  sum- 
ng  but  college, 
probably  settle 
Marian  and  ho 

ind  here  I  am 
ucll  you  about 


VNKXPKCTKD  COMPANY.  ff 

papa,  my  pa()a,  who  hius  taken  such  an  extreme 
fancy  for  Fred,  Iwcause  she  looks  like  poor 
mamma  used  to  when  she  wiks  a  girl. 

"  It  is  stmnffo  none  of  us  detected  the  likeness 
while  she  was  a  child.  I  think  it  must  have 
been  the  tan  and  short  hair  that  disguised  her,  for 
now  that  the  discovery  has  boon  made  everybody 
sees  the  remarkable  resemblance. 

"  Two  years  ago  wc  sent  Fred  to  Malxil  for  the 
winter.  Mabel  was  homesick,  having  only  just 
been  niarried,  and  beside,  Fred  wanted  the  advan- 
tage of  a  French  teacher,  as  she  had  Ixien  studying 
the  language  at  home.  Her  hair  was  quite  long 
then  and  Mabel  did  it  up  after  the  fashionable 
mode,  parting  it  in  the  middle.  It  quite  trans- 
formed her. 

"  Aunt  Jule  was  stopping  in  Chicago  that  win- 
ter and  she  was  much  struck  with  the  child's  like- 
ness to  mamma,  who  was  Aunt  Jule's  favorite 
sister.  She  went  home  full  of  it,  and  papa  came 
on  here  the  following  summer  on  purpose  to  see 
Fredrica.  The  child  seemed  to  fit  right  into  poor 
papa's  stricken  heart.  He  had  been  inconsolable 
since  mamma's  death,  but  Fred  seemed  to  rouse 
and  comfort  him,  and  nothing  would  do  but 
she  must  spend  last  winter  with  him  in  Phila- 
delphia.      '  -     -V  ^  -"■-_■-.:■-'  V 

"  He  made  it  very  pleasant  for  her,  inviting 
Grace  Germaine  to  visit  with  her  awhile.  He  is 
much  afmid  she  will  not  have  everything  her 
heart  desires.     He  sent  her  that  upright  piano, 


ipi 


iiniiim 


M  t 


82 


IIKHHKHT  (4AHUKKKLL,  JR. 


luul  liiMt  Sirtluliiy  »  Iwiiutiful  f^olil  watch,  himI  bidii 
fttir  yot  to  s|)oil  tho  little  liuly." 

"Sii|)[)()Miii({  hIiu  m  of  ihu  HiH)iliil)le  kind,  which 
I  much  <i<)ul»t,"  Hiiid  Herbert.  "  People  UHcd  to 
predict  that  of  Olive  ;  the  only  girl,  nnd  hucIi  ii 
jHjt  with  everylKidy.  Hut  somehow  it  didn't  hap- 
pen. She  in  Hiniply  the  (h>iireMt  little  girl-wo'^'.iun 
in  the  world.  Tite  cloiior  you  hold  her  the  Initter 
hho  grows." 

"  Ilut  isn't  tlmt  duo  to  the  wise  training  she 
had,  the  ^\\\n  hut  kind  himd  of  ho  judiciourt  a 
father  and  niolher?  " 

"  No  doubt  it  is,  largely,"  admitted  the  young 
man.  "  Yet  I  wonder  if  wo  all  wouldn't  improve 
if  wo  got  nioro  of  what  the  world  denominatea 
spoiling.  Siigar  preserves  more  things  than  vin- 
egar, and  wo  like  them  In^tter.  So  love  conserves 
virtue.  It  is  my  firm  conviction  that  no  petting 
which  is  the  result  of  genuine  unaelfish  love  ever 
spoils  its  object;  it  improves  it." 

"  Hear,  hear,"  applauded  a  voice  at  the  door, 
and  a  1  night  face  peeped  in.  "Mamma  is  so 
afniid  Unit  Grandpa  Crafton  will  spoil  me.  liut 
he  will  not.  Ho  only  makes  me  realize  what 
a  precious  old  darling  he  is,  and  hope  I  'am  not 
quite  a  stick.  When  one's  sisters  are  all  either 
belles,  l)eauties,  o  >men  of  talent,  and  one's  self 
is  so  commonplrco,  a  little  spoiling  is  comforting 
and  encouraging." 

"  To  hear  the  child  talk  a  person  would  never 
suppose  her  father  had  coddled  her  beyond  all 


^km 


wi^HmmmmmmmmmmMHmKummi,'m^mt!m 


'H. 

utch,  iind  liids 

0  kind,  which 
iople  UHed  In 
I,  nnd  Hiu;h  ii 
it  didn't  hup- 
e  girl-wonmii 
her  the  Itetter 

training  «ha 
u   jiuliciouM  a 

ed  the  young 
Idn't  improve 
denominates 
ngH  tlmn  vin- 
ovo  conserves 
lat  no  petting 
fish  love  ever 


VSEXPSCTEI)  COHtPANY 


AS 


telling  iind  her  mother  hiviHhed  on  tier  nil  the  uf- 
fection  that  lier  four  hrothei'H  wouUl  have  inher> 
itod,  had  they  ever  Injen  l)orn,"  cried  Mw.  Rogers. 

"True,"  Irt'ighod  Fred.  "Hut  home-love  is  n 
little  like  a  home-made  dress,  ni(;e  and  comfort- 
ahle,  indispeiisablu  indeed,  but  hardly  fitted  for  all 
occasions.  Once  in  a  while  one  wants  some- 
thing " — she  hesitated. 

"Better!"  cried  her  mother,  "the  child  wants 
to  say  Iwtter,"  putting  her  hands  over  her  oars  in 
mock  distre.is. 

"  No,  not  Ixjtter,  mother,  but  different.  Malwl 
and  Elsie  and  Marian  have  that  and  more.  So 
gi-andpa  has  his  pla(;e  and  his  gnuid-danghter's 
gratitude,  thanks  to  the  happy  fate  that  g'^ve  1U0 
my  grandmother's  face." 


at  the  door. 
Mamma  is  so 
)oil  me.     But 

realize  what 
opo  I  'am  not 
are  all  either 
and  one's  self 
is  comforting 

would  never 
?T  beyond  all 


,■•,-/,  .  ,  ^='.-  -- 


fiT 


liiiiiiiiiiii 


u 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


.    ull. 


CHAPTER  III. 


DARK 


"  The  strong  must  build  stout  cabins  for  the  weak; 
Must  plant  and  stint;  must  sow  and  reap  and  store; 
For  grain  takes  root  though  all  seems  bare  and  bleak." 

— EUOKNK  Lfk  HAMILXOK. 

Hebbekt  Gardenell's  stay  at  the  pleasant 
houiC  that  opened  so  ghadly  to  receive  hiin,  was 
destined  to  be  much  longer  than  anybody  antici- 
pated. The  morning  after  his  arrival  he  awoke 
with  a  strange  languor  holding  body  and  brain. 
He  found  it  hard  to  be  companionable,  and  the 
stroll  with  his  cousin,  over  a  portion  of  the  farm 
in  the  forenoon,  so  wearied  him  that  he  declined 
Mr.  Rogei-s'  invitation  to  accompany  him  upon  a 
trip  in  the  afternoon. 

Truth  to  tell,  the  young  man  had  been  far  from 
well  for  some  days  past,  which  was  probably  one 
source  of  the  hcaiesickness  of  which  lie  had 
spoken  to  his  aunt  on  his  arrival.  Unknown  to 
himself  a  fever  was  creeping  over  him,  and  a  kind 
Providence  had  led  him,  just  in  time,  to  the  care 
and  love  he  needed. 

Next  morning  he  felt  worse,  if  anything,  and 


1!:  I 


m}^^'*jm 


nnniiniiiniwiiiMHiWii 


JB. 


DARK  CLOUDS. 


35 


he  weak; 
p  and  store ; 
irc  and  bleak." 

>E  Ha  MILTON. 

t  the  pleasant 
3eive  him,  was 
uiybody  antioi- 
•ival  he  awoke 
idy  and  brain, 
liable,  and  the 
lu  of  the  farm 
at  he  declined 
ly  him  upon  a 

I  been  far  from 
J  probably  one 
^vhich  lie  had 
Unknown  to 
im,  and  a  kind 
lie,  to  the  care 

anything,  and 


decided,  at  his  hostess'  urgency,  to  send  for  his 
baggage  and  friend,  who  still  waited  him  in  the 
next  town.  His  friend  forwarded  his  belongings, 
writing  that  he  himself  felt  obliged  to  push  on, 
reluctant  as  he  was  to  part  company  with  his 
fellow-traveller. 

Herl.nt  took  an  early  opportunity  to  write 
liome,  saying  nothing,  however,  abouf  his  lassi- 
tude and  discomfort.  It  would  soon  pass  away, 
he  trusted,  and  in  any  case  he  would  not  alarm 
his  parents.  His  great  anxiety  was  to  hear  from 
them,  so  he  begged  them  to  write  immediately,  as 
he  Avas  hungry  for  news  from  home. 

The  letter  wsis  delayed,  however,  on  its  joui'- 
ney,  as  occasionally  a  letter  will  be.  And  so  it 
happened  that  Olive  Gardenell,  who  answered  the 
postman's  ring,  held  two  letters  in  her  hand  that 
spring  morning,  and  both  addressed  to  her  father. 

The^  were  both  from  N also,  but  one  was 

directed  in  her  brother's  well-known  chirography, 
the  other  in  Mi-s.  Rogers'. 

"  O  dear  I  I  wish  papa  was  here,"  said  ue  girl, 
impatiently.  "  It  s^  ;ms  as  if  I  could  not  wait,  it 
is  so  long  since  we've  heard  a  word  from  Hervie. 

He  must  be  at  N ,  but  if  so,  why  should  Aunt 

Jessie  and  he  write  at  the  same  time?"  ^     ; 

Then  she  fell  to  examining  the  envelopes,  and 
soon  discovered  that  one  had  gone  quite  a  way 
out  of  its  straight  coui-se  in  reaching  its  destina- 
tion, and  had  Y  en  posted  fully  two  weeks  before 
the  other.  -     •  >:;.-i»4 


"i^VRlV 


86 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


il    .J 


It  worried  lier,  she  hardly  knew  why,  and  it  was 
a  very  impatient  little  daughter  who  knocked  ut 
the  8tu(iy  door  an  hour  later,  and  about  two  seconds 
after  she  heard  her  father's  step  on  the  stairs. 

"  Lettera  I  open  them  quickly,  papa  I  Herbert's 
first,"  she  said,  following  her  rap  immediately, 
without  waiting  for  the  usual  "  Come." 

The  gentleman  did  her  bidding,  taking  her  on 
his  knee  that  she  might  read  with  him.  It  was 
very  satisfactory,  and  she  kissed  it  passionately  as 
lier  father  dropped  it  into  her  hands  and  reached 
for  the  other. 

"If  you  were  only  here,  Hervie,"  she  sobbed, 
"  everything  would  straighten  out.  As  it  is,  I 
don't  know  how  to  live  without  you." 

"  Not  with  papa  here,  and  a  Greater  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Gardenell,  gently,  holding  his  daughter  to 
his  heart.  "  You  are  not  alone,  darling.  I  misa 
him,  myself,  more  than  I  can  tell,  but  surely  wo 
must  all  be  glad  that  for  a  little  while,  at  least, 
he  is  spared  the  sorrow  that  crushes  us." 

"  I  am  selfish,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  keep  thinking 
of  how  he  would  lift  half  the  burden  by  his  very 
presence.  Yes,  I  am  very  selfish.  Perhaps  he 
need  not  know  at  all  until  the  danger  is  over  and 
mamma  is  better." 

"  Perhaps,"  assented  papa,  but  not  heartily,  as 
his  daughter  hoped,  but  with  a  reserve  in  his 
voice  that  echoed  her  forebodings. 

"  This  letter  is  old,"  Olive  said.  "  Papa,  you 
bad  better  see  what  Aunt  Jessie  says." 


IS 


I 


i     -htm, 


I.  iiiiiii.il  I  iiiiijij  j|iiitiiii:i...iiiMJim'f ,Ji'i JiiMMiAW'.  mmikmmim!!--mm/'M;-d^9'!!sms>:4s&^^,ms 


IMHil 


TR.  , 

iiy,  and  it  was 
o  knocked  ufc 
it  two  seconds 
lie  staira. 
a  I  Herbert's 
immediately, 

aking  her  on 
him.  It  was 
assionately  as 
i  and  reached 

'  she  sobbed. 

As  it  is,  I 
>» 

ater?"  asked 
daughter  to 
ling.  I  miss 
mt  surely  wo 
hile,  at  least, 

IS." 

:eep  thinking 

II  by  his  very 

Perhaps  he 

'.r  is  over  and 

t  heartily,  as 
jserve   in  his 

"Papa,  you 


DAIiK  CLOUDS. 


VI 


Papa  had  not  waited  for  pennission,  but  was 
perusing  the  sheet  with  troubled  eyes. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  his  daughter,  pushing  her 
head  up  between  the  paper  and  her  father's  face. 
"  Any  bad  news,  papa  ?  why  do  you  put  on  that 
look  of  fate  ?  "  the  slender  fingers  smoothing  the 
puckers  between  his  eyes. 

"  Read  for  youraelf,  dear,  and  remember  it  is 
our  Father  who  afflicts." 

"  O,  papa,  papa,  papa  I  how  can  I  bear  it ! 
Herbert  sick,  and  with  fever  1  what  if  he  should 
die?" 

"  Read  on,  my  dear.  It  is"  not  a  severe  attack  ; 
a  slow  foi-m  of  typhoid,  your  aunt  writes,  and 
the  doctor  trusts  it  will  run  low, — be  more  tire- 
some than  dangerous.  We  must  not  forget  how 
much  worse  it  might  be,  little  daughter.  You 
and  I  must  be  trustful  in  the  midst  of  affliction." 

But  the  dear  voice  that  spoke  was  low  and 
broken,  for  this  true  heart  was  (juivering  under 
mighty  pressures. 

"  And  mamma,  what  if  mamma — "  Olive  did 
not  finish  that  question.  "And  Hervie  gone — 
sick,  too,  and  we  unable  to  go  to  him — he  has 
always  had  mamma  before  when  he  was  ill." 

"He  has  mamma's  God,  Olive. 

"  Yes,  1  know,  but  oh,  papa,  this  seems  too  much 
to  bear." 

"He  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb," 
whispered  papa.  "  I  caiuiot  see  my  way  through 
these  mists,  darling,  but  I  can  trust  the  Hand  that 


sVi^  j4/ft««*Se?i'^^fii?*W^i!rA 


'«l^> 


m^' 


0^ 


88 


HERBERT  OARDL'NELL,  JR. 


Jeads  me.  It  is  not  iiecesspiy  to  see  as  far  as  God 
sees,  but  only  to  trust  as  f i  r  as  He  sees.  1  tliank 
Him.    He  requires  nothirg  more  than  I  can  give." 

"But,  papa,  it  is  all  so  new  and  strange:  Her- 
bert away,  the  boys  at  school,  Ray  in  Soutli 
America,  mamma  so  sick  she  doesn't  know  us, 
and  just  you  and  I,"  she  broke  down. 

"And  God,"  supplied  papa,  "and  His  exceed- 
ing rich  and  precious  promises."  Then  he  took 
his  girlie  to  his  bosom  and  held  her  close,  while 
he  sang  softly  over  lier  pillowed  head  these  words 
from  the  German : 

"Pain's  furnace-heat  within  rae  quivors, 
God's  breath  upon  the  flame  dotli  blow, 
And  all  my  heart  in  anguish  shivers 

And  trembles  at  the  flery  glow  : 
And  yet  I  whisper  '  As  God  will,'        ' 
And  in  the  hottest  fire  hold  still.    ' 

"  He  comes  and  lays  my  heart,  all  heated, 

On  his  hard  anvil,  minded  so  : 
Yet  In  His  own  fair  form  to  beat  it 

With  His  great  hammer  blow  by  blow, 
And  yet  I  whisper  '  As  God  will,' 
And  in  the  hottest  fire  hold  still. 

"  He  kindles  for  my  profit  purely,  ' 

Affliction's  glowing,  flery  brand: 
For  all  His  keenest  blows  are  surely 

Inflicted  by  a  Master  hand. 
And  so  I  whisper  '  As  God  will,' 
And  in  the  hottest  fire  hold  still. 

"  I  will  not  murmur  at  the  sorrow 
That  only  longer-lived  would  be  : 
The  end  may  come  and  that  to-morrow,    '  '  - 

When  Gml  hath  wrought  His  will  in  me. 


';•# 


4 


dauk  clouds. 

And  so  I  whisper  '  As  God  will,' 
And  in  tlio  hottest  Are  hold  still." 


89 


Papa,  I  wish  I  was  like  you  I  I  will  try  to 
bear  patiently.  I  do  want  to  love  God's  will,  but 
I  don't  seem  to  be  able.  I  thought  I  could  never 
question  or  flinch  again,  He  has  been  so  near  and 
precious  to  ine.  But  when  mamma's  voice  is  gone 
and  Herbert's,  I  find  my  boasted  strength  gone 
too,  and  I  am  only  an  added  burden  to  your 
love." 

"But  one  it  could  hardly  spare  these  days, 
dearest."  Then  gently,  humbly:  "Olive,  we  all 
find  ourselves  weak  under  any  real,  present  strain. 
God  only  is  strong,  and  we  as  we  take  hold  of  Him. 
Don't  berate  yourself,  darling,  I  often  find  my 
comfort  in  the  comfort  wherewith  I  try  to  comfort 
you."  .;-,, ,.  \x::- ;.;::.:„./,./■-  ■    .-,-'::,  ,  tfr- 

And  indeed  they  had  need  of  comfort  these  days. 
Over  the  home,  so  many  years  guarded  and  favored, 
had  fallen  a  terrible  cloud.  The  mother,  idol  alike 
of  husband  and  children,  was  smitten,  and  now  lay 
hovering  on  the  very  borders  of  the  grave. 

She  had  long  been  ailing,  losing  strength. 
Months  of  weariness  and  exliaustion  had  been  fol- 
lowed by  weeks  of  almost  constant  distress  and  un- 
rest ;  now  very  dangerous  symptoms  had  appeared, 
and  the  doctors  were  both  alarmed  and  puzzled. 
Two  eminent  physicians,  one  of  them  Mr.  Gar- 
denell's  tried  friend,  Horace  Germaine,  hung  over 
her:  two  nurses,  one  for  the  night,  one  for  the  day, 
were  ever  beside  her.     As  yet  neither  of  these 


g&a5»&ifei^saS8teSfiiiat**ii.-  i&*i 


>k=V--''^^iii^^<^*^^'Si^^''--'' 


m 


llEllttEHT  QARDENELL,  JR. 


skilled  helpera  hiid  given  her  anxious  friends  any 
assurance  of  lecoveiy,  any  grounds  for  hope. 

But  Mr.  Gardenell  asked  no  man's  |)ermi88ion  to 
hope.  That  was  his  by  the  i.ialienable  right  of  his 
second  birth.  A  child  of  God  could  do  no  less. 
Night  after  night  he  knelt  before  Him  in  whose 
hands  are  the  issues  of  life  and  death,  presenting 
his  petitions,  holding  his  loved  one  up  for  His 
healing  touch. 

As  Olive  had  hinted,  they  were  peculiarly 
situated.  Harry  was  in  his  first  year  at  college. 
Eddie,  who  was  preparing  to  enter,  had  been  sent 
to  Mr.  Campbell's,  whose  namesake  he  was,  at  the 
beginning  of  his  mother's  illness. 

She  was  extremely  sensitive  to  the  slightest 
noise  at  that  time,  and  his  father,  feeling  the  som- 
breness  of  the  home  atmosphere  unwholesome  for 
the  growing  youth,  sent  him  away  as  much  for  his 
own  sake  as  his  mother's.  Both  these  boys  knew 
their  mother  laj'^  very  ill ;  as  yet  they  had  not  been 
informed  of  the  extremity  of  her  danger. 

Raymond  was  in  South  America,  representing 
the  Mission  Board  of  his  peculiar  denomination, 
and  making  necessary  inquiries  into  its  work.  It 
was  an  unusual  position  for  so  young  a  man  to  oc- 
cupy. But  his  honored  father's  long  and  close 
connection  with  the  Missionary  Board  and  its  vari- 
ous enterprises,  his  large  sympathies  and  critical 
knowledge  of  the  fields  and  the  workers,  had  much 
to  do  with  this  offer  to  his  son.  -    -  i 

Then,  Gatty,  the  young  preacher's  wife,  had 


^-.^-^ 


is  friends  Miy 
or  hope. 
})ermi88ioii  to 
tie  right  of  his 
id  do  no  less, 
[lim  in  whose 
th,  presenting 
a  up  for  His 

ire  peculiarly 
sar  at  college, 
had  been  sent 
he  was,  at  the 

the  slightest 
jling  the  soni- 
vholesome  for 
i  much  for  his 
ese  boys  knew 
f  had  not  been 
iger. 

.,  representing 
denomination, 

its  work.  It 
»  a  man  to  oc- 
)ng  and  close 
•d  and  its  vari- 
es and  critical 
:ers,  had  much 

jr's  wife,  had 


DARK  CLOUDS. 


41 


been  failing  in  health,  and  travel  in  a  warmer  cli- 
mate had  been  advised.  This  opportunity  looked 
like  a  providential  opening,  and  Raymond  dared 
not  reject  it,  troubled  as  his  heart  was  over  his 
mother's  condition.  After  consultation  with  his 
father  and  much  prayer,  he  decided  to  go,  and  was 
now  with  '.13  wife  and  babe  in  a  distant  land. 

They  had  heard  from  him  several  times.  He 
was  bearing  them  up  before  the  throne  constantly, 
for  he  realized  how  precarious  was  his  mother's 
liealth.  She  was  his  idol,  and  he  had  been  sorely 
grieved,  when  last  he  saw  her,  at  her  loss  of  appe- 
tite and  flesh.  Letters  had  confirmed  him  in  his 
fears,  and  he  waited  anxiously  to  learn  how  she 
prospered. 

So  Olive  and  her  father  were  the  only  members 
of  the  family  at  home  to  encourage  and  help  each 
other.  From  Stanton  Cartwright,  Herbert's  old 
college-chum,  they  heard  quite  often.  They  had 
not  seen  his  face  now  for  something  like  a  year. 
He  was  dividing  his  time  between  teaching  school 
and  the  study  of  medicine.  "  Plying  one  to  get 
money  to  proceed  with  the  other,"  as  he  wrote 
Herbert.  "  It  is  such  an  advantsvge  for  a  mission- 
ary to  be  able  to  administer  ijo  body  as  well  as 
soul,  that  I  have  decided  to  add  physic  to  my  long 
line  of  capabilities,  and  play  Luke  to  my  Paul." 
For  these  two  friends  hoped  before  m«ny  days  to 
proceed  to  the  mission  field  together ;  and  Africa 
was  their  Land  of  Promise. 
■  "  I  think  we  must  write  at  once  to  Herbert  and 


'^^^^^^^'y'f^A'^e^^ 


t 


''•I, 


42 


llEnUKUT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


Aunt  Jessie,"  said  Mr.  Gaidenell,  iifler  a  second 
perusal  of  the  letters.  "And,  my  darling,  yea 
had  better  give  brother  one  of  your  cheeriest 
epistles,  without  any  allusion  totnamma.  It  will  be 
necessary  for  him  to  know  something  of  her  condi- 
tion, as  he  would  surmise  more  from  her  silence,  if 
unexplained,  than  any  of  us  would  think  best.  I 
will  try  to  tell  him  enough  of  the  truth  to  ease  his 
mind,  without  arousing  his  fears.  The  rest  we 
must  trust  to  God." 

And  Olive,  summoning  all  her  courage,  full  of 
tender  solicitude  for  her  brother,  and  filled  with 
desire  to  Bee  his  face,  wrote  such  a  sweet,  whimsi- 
cal bit  of  an  epistle  as  only  she  knew  how  to  com- 
pose, and  that  met  her  father's  fullest  approbation. 

Siie  was  a  brave  little  woman,  childish  as  she 
appeared  at  times ;  able  to  put  aside  her  heart  and 
her  fears  also,  where  another's  good  was  involved, 
capable  of  highest  sacrifice  for  those  iche  loved. 
Some  day,  please  God,  she  would  learn  to  iove  the 
world,  in  some  measure,  as  Christ  loved  it,  and 
then  she  would  sacrifice  for  those  she  knew  not,  as 
now  she  did  for  those  she  cherished. 

It  was  well  the  letter  was  written  and  sent  lie- 
fore  the  darkest  days  came,  and  before  Olive  was 
aware  of  the  real  extent  of  her  mother's  danger. 

Indeed,  she  never  quite  knew  this  until  it  was 
past.  For  her  father  shielded  her  constantly,  re- 
lieving the  nurses  himself  after  his  wife  reached 
the  place  of  greatest  peril  ,•  banishing  his  little 
daughter   wholly  from   the    sick-i-oom,  that  she 


JjlWui. 


■'WM.lWUlWMMKiiUJWllWgByawte^^ 


n. 


DARK  CLOUDS. 


48 


'ter  a  gecoiid 
dni'ling,  yoa 
ur  cheeneHt 
la.  It  will  be 
of  her  condi- 
ler  Bilence,  if 
hink  best.  I 
th  to  ease  his 
The  rest  we 

irage,  full  of 
d  tilled  with 
veet,  whiinsi- 
how  to  com- 
aj)probation. 
Idish  as  she 
ler  heart  and 
i^as  involved, 
e  Khe  loved, 
n  to  iove  the 
oved  it,  and 
knew  not,  as 

and  sent  I)e- 
re  Olive  was 
ler's  danger, 
until  it  was 
)n8tantly,  re- 
vife  reached 
ng  his  little 
m,  that  she 


might  be  spared  what  wrung  his  own  bravo  heart, 
lliu  deathly  face  and  almost  unseeing  eyes  of  the 
suffering  one. 

He  had  many  reasons  to  urge  for  this,  thus  re- 
assuring the  child.  "  Mamma  did  not  often  recog- 
nize any  one  now ;  it  was  Ixitter  to  spare  herself  all 
she  could,  and  l)0  ready  to  serve  when  lier  service 
would  be  valued.  He  was  stronger  than  she  and 
able  to  turn  and  lift  mamma  without  help,  when  she 
needed  change  ;  and  then  she  had  so  much  to  do." 

Fortune  favored  him  in  his  scheming,  for,  just 
now,  the  housework  pressed  Olive  sorely. 

The  cook,  who  had  been  with  them  for  years, 
had  gone  to  join  a  brother  in  making  a  new  home. 
She  had  deferred  her  departure  for  months,  hoping 
her  mistress  would  rally,  but  was  forced  at  last 
reluctantly  to  leave  them.  So  Olive  was  getting 
along  with  inesperienced  help. 

The  second  girl  had  left  some  time  before,  and 
she  was  doing  that  work  herself ;  glad  of  anything 
that  would  take  up  time  and  keep  her  from  think- 
ing. Her  anxiety  affected  both  her  sleep  and  ap- 
petite, and,  had  it  not  been  for  hei  father,  she 
would  have  given  up  and  l)een  sick  herself. 

But  he  must  be  cheered  and  comforted.  It 
broke  her  heart  to  see  his  white,  patient  face.  She 
knew  he  spent  most  of  his  nights  in  his  study,  and 
hardly  ate  enough  to  keep  a  mouse  alive.  She 
wished  she  knew  how  to  concoct  the  dainty  little 
dishes  with  which  the  old  cook  used  to  tempt  hi« 
failing  appetite.  ??i^  r' it\    j     ,uu 


■■ 


4-1 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  J  P.. 


Olive  hatl  been  out  of  school  now  for  over  a 
yenr.  Motliei-  unU  daughter  iiad  laid  many  plans 
for  tliat  year,  hut  none  of  them  had  come  to  i>ei^ 
feotion.  Among  othei'8  tlim  nuiiden  was  to  have 
taken  lessons  in  cooking  and  housework.  There 
had  lieen  a  day  when  her  muiHuH  and  cake  were 
in  demand  among  the  l)oys.  But  that  was  l)ef()re 
Hhe  went  away  to  the  seminary  and  learned 
8o  many  new  things  that  such  knowledge  was 
crowded  out.  Site  meant  to  brush  up  and  add 
indelinitely. 

Hut,  O  dear,  how  the  time  had  gone  !  What 
with  visiting  the  sick  and  poor  of  Herbert's  mis- 
sion and  papa's  churah,  to  say  nothing  of  old 
friends,  and  a  Sabbath-school  class,  and  a  secre- 
taryship of  the  Y.  P.  S.  C.  E.  Then  Harry  and 
Eddie  made  demands  on  her  time,  and  Raymond 
had  to  be  written  to  and  visited  occasionally.  Best 
of  all  was  dear  Herbert,  to  whose  plans  and  sym- 
juithies  she  was  always  so  freely  admitted. 

He  had  fitted  up  the  old  nursery  for  himself  as 
a  sort  of  private  studv,  the  room  off  of  it  serving 
as  his  chamber.  1  .>ere  she  had  spent  many 
happy  houi-s,  sewing  or  reading  while  he  wrote, 
happiest  of  all  when  he  read  to  her  some  para- 
graph from  a  sermon  or  asked  her  opinion  on 
some  suggestive  thought.  She  sang  foi  and  with 
him  at  the  Mission,  prepared  him  bandages  and 
jellies  for  his  sick,  made  clothes  occasionally  for 
his  destitute  babies.  ,,  c. 

Then  mamma's  failing  health  made  it  neoes- 


„J/7. 

now  for  over  a 
aid  inuny  p'ling 
(I  uoine  to  i>«i'- 
uii  was  to  hnve 
8»!\vork.  There 
and  cuke  were 
that  wiui  l)efore 
y  and  leiirned 
knowledge  wam 
iHh  up  and  add 

1  gone  !  What 
Herbert's  mis- 
notliing  of  old 
4H,  and  a  secre- 
'hen  Harry  and 
I,  and  Raymond 
%sionnlly.  Best 
plans  and  syin- 
Imitted. 

J  for  himself  as 
)ff  of  it  serving 
d  spent  many 
ivhile  he  wrote, 
her  some  para- 
her  opinion  on 
n^  foi  and  with 
I  bandages  and 
occasionally  for 

made  it  neces- 


DMiK  CLOUDS.  m 

sary  for  her  daughttu-  to  spend  mueii  of  her  tiniu 
Iwsidt!  her.  The  lessons  in  cooking  went  uu* 
learned,  she  became  com^tanion  and  nurse  instead. 

And  now,  alitri,  even  this  coveted  employment 
was  Utken  from  her,  and  only  now  and  then  a 
^^limpse  of  her  mother's  face  accorded  her — a 
glim|)se  that  dismayed  her  more  and  moi-e  and 
sent  her  ever  away  with  an  increasingly  heavy 
hoart. 

Would  her  mother  die?  How  could  they  live 
without  her?  Oh  for  Herbert!  This  had  Inien 
her  secret  cry  for  weeks;  she  had  sobl>ed  it  out 
aloud  in  the  seclusion  of  his  study,  with  his  old 
Bible  pressed  close  to  her  li|)s.  Any  hardship 
would  always  be  moro  Ixjarable  to  Olive  with 
Herlxjrt  beside  her;  he  had  never  before  been 
silent  to  her  cry. 

There  was  more  in  store  for  this  little  liidy. 
The  new  Biddy  in  the  kitchen  was  ignorant  and 
easily  alarmed.  The  gloom  and  quiet  of  the 
house  oppressed  her,  there  was  something  portent- 
ous to  her  in  the  coming  and  going  of  so  many 
doctore. 

Fresh  developments  of  Mrs.  Gardenell's  disease 
were  seriously  disturbing  her  ph)-8ician'8  expecta- 
tions. Internal  hemorrhage  had  set  in,  robbing 
her  cf  what  little  strength  yet  remained,  threaten- 
ing to  sweep  away  the  last  vestige  of  hope.  A 
counsel  of  physicians  was  called. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  house  became  dense  with 
dread,  the  veiy  air  was  pregnant  with  possibility. 


.  '^■ 


MNP 


MM 


MWMiillMMi 


^■■^■■a 


JB. 

tuce  of  (Itintli. 
B  oozed  .'^way. 
was  UHele88  to 
re  wiu*  nothing 
was  eontngion 
jr.  Tlie  night 
under  the  roof 
riing. 


'JYUt  UJUaSUT'a  SAKM.' 


m 


,  .\    X"' 


'f . 


.  -         CHAPTER  IV. 

"  Foil    HEUIiKRT'H  SAKE."  ;, 

"Don't  lone ^lailnesa  ;  every  hour  ■     '* 

^^v  Blooms  for  yoti  some  happy  flower." 

That  night  I  How  long  it  waa  I  Would  it 
ever  end  I  How  glad  Olive  was  when  at  last  she 
saw  the  first  glimmer  of  daylight  I 

She  had  counted  the  hours  as  they  passed,  five, 
six.  Surely  Bridget  would  l)e  back  by  this  time. 
The  child  had  not  removed  her  clothes,  all  night 
she  had  lain  in  them  She  rose  now  and  crept 
down  softly  over  tli  stairs.  How  chilly  it  was  1 
She  wrapped  a  heavy  shawl  about  her,  and  tip- 
toed noiselessly  across  the  long  hall  and  down  the 
basement  stairs. 

What  a  kitchen  1  No  fire,  no  Bridget !  It  was 
early  yet,  she  would  be  here  presently.  Olive 
ascended  to  the  sitting-room  and  lay  down  on  the 
couch.  How  dismal  it  all  was !  Oh  for  Herbert ! 
She  hid  her  face  in  the  pillows  and  tried  to 
sleep. 

Did  she  get  a  nap?  Surely  the  clock  struck 
eight  when  next  she  counted  its  strokes.  The 
maid    would  be   here    by    this    time.     Another 


^tr.-i.i,::n.iia(i 


■/tmmntmiit^:- 


48 


IIEBBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


'I' 


ii  I 


jouriioy  to  the  kitchen.     It  was  as  cheerless,  as 
forlorn  as  ever.     No  Biddy  had  yet  appeared. 

What  did  it  mean?  Could  it  be  that  Bridget 
had  left  them  altogether?  Olive  went  up  to  the 
girl's  chamber  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  and 
found  that  she  was  huleed  forsaken.  Every 
drawer  in  the  bureau  i;ad  been  emptied,  the 
clothes-press  also,  Bridget's  belongings  and  her  ' 
carpet-bag  had  disappeared.  Poor  child!  She 
dropped  into  a  chair  and  cried  her  fill. 

But    what    possible   use    was    that    with    the 
kitchen   fin    unbuilt,  and  not  a  thing  ready   for 
breakfast.     She   wiped  her  eyes    and  descended 
once  more.     She  found  her  father  clearing  out  the 
range,  and  to  his  look  of  inquiry  answered : 
"  Gone,  bag  and  baggage." 
"  Well,  she  Avas  rot  much  good.     We  will  find 
come  one  else,"  said  the  gentleman  comfoitingly. 
"I    ^■i^ess    we   can    manage   to   get  nurse  some 
breakfast,  and  then  I  will  gc  to  an  intelligence 
office.     I  met  Mary  Ann  yestn-day.    She  is  very 
much  troubled  because  she  cannot  come  to  your 
help.     But  she  has  the  house  full  of  boarders,  be- 
side her  own  two  boys,  and  says  her  mother  is 
only  one  more  to  care  for,  and  not  fit  to  be  trusted 
with  any  work  these  days.     Perhaps  Mi-s.  Longby 
will  come  and  help  you  to-day." 

"Oh,  papa,  please!"  imploringly.  "I  would 
rather  do  anything  than  have  her.  Her  tongue 
would  distract  me  just  now.  I  will  manage  until 
we  find  some  one  else." 


[  1.1  I 


R. 


'wfOB  HERBERT'S  SAKE.' 


49 


cheerless,  as 
ppeiired. 

that  Bridget 
ant  up  to  the 
scovery,  and 
iken.  Every 
emptied,  the 
inga   and  her 

child!  She 
I. 

at  with  the 
iig  ready  for 
id  descended 
jaring  out  the 
wered : 

We  will  find 
comfoi-tingly. 
L  nurse  some 
n  intelligence 
She  is  very 
come  to  your 
:  boarders,  be- 
her  mother  is 
t  to  l)e  trusted 
i  Mi-s.  Longby 

y.  "  I  would 
.  Her  tongue 
.  manage  until 


They  got  some  kind  of  a  meal  on  the  table 
between  them.  Then,  as  her  father  went  to  re- 
lieve nurse,  Olive  said  :  "  Papa,  I  hardly  dare  ask 
what  the  doctors  have  agreed."         •  /    \  :    :  t   %  * 

"  I  do  not  know  myself,"  was  the  gentle  reply. 
"  When  they  left  at  early  dawn  tliey  had  come  to 
no  satisfactory  conclusion.  I  expect  Dr.  Ger- 
maine  at  any  moment.  I  spent  most  of  the  night 
at  your  mother's  side.     I  think  she  is  no  worse." 

"  Nor  any  better  ?  "  tearfully. 

"Nor  any  better.  Only  sometimes,  not  to  go 
backward  is  an  indication  of  slight  gain." 

That  dreadful  kitchen  I  Olive  worked  at  it 
steadily  for  an  hour,  and  then  it  didn't  look  much 
better.  The  ashes.,  the  stove,  the  dishes.  How 
did  one  person  ever  manage  so  much  ? 

She  left  it  at  last  to  sweep  the  dining-room 
floor.  She  had  just  dusted  that  room  to  her 
satisfaction,  and  was  proceeding  to  the  sitting- 
room,  when  a  rap  came  at  the  back  door.  A  mp, 
surely,  for  it  was  repeated,  and  something  in 
Olive  liardenell's  bosom  gave  a  thrill  of  rapture 
as  she  ran  to  answer  the  summons. 

"  Oh,  Stsmton,  you  old  darling  !  I'm  so  glad  to 
see  you ;  come  in.  I've  wanted  Herbert  so  much, 
and  now  you've  come,  and  that's  the  very  next 
best  thing."  And  there  she  was,  crying  and 
laughing  and  clinging  to  the  young  man's  coat 
in  an  exceedingly  delightful  fashion. 

"  I'd  have  been  here  before  this  if  I  liad  known 
what  a  welcome  was  waiting  me,"  he  laughed. 
4 


60 


HERBERT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


If   ■,« 


"  Aro  you  so  very  glad,  littla  girl  ?  Let  me  play 
Herbert  a  little  farther,"  lifting  her  up  until  hor 
eyes  luet  his,  and  kissing  her  right  on  her  lips. 

"  Fie  1  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  Stanton 
Cartwright?  r  great  fellow  like  you  taking  such 
an  advantage.  I  don't  believe  I'd  ever  have  liked 
vnu  if  vou  had  acted  like  that  before." 

'Not  even  if  it  was  for  Herbert's  sake?" 
queried  the  laughing  young  man.  "You  see,  I 
pever  was  hugged  for  Herbert  before,  and  it 
struck  in.  There,  don't  frown.  I'll  be  real  good, 
as  good  as  anybody  can  be  who  is  not  Herbert," 
taking  her  arm  and  leading  her  into  the  sitting- 
room. 

"Oh  dear,  not  in  here,  Stanton.  You  don't 
know — you  can't  imagine  how  parts  of  this  house 
look.  Mamma  is  very  sick,"  with  a  trembling 
voice. 

"I  know,  dear.  I  met  Mr.  Munson  and  he 
told  mo.  That  is  why  I  went  to  the  side  door 
and  knocked — nob  to  disturb  her  with  the  bell." 

"Oh,  it's  muffled — has  been  for  weeks.  But 
she  wouldn't  mind  it  if  it  was  not.  No  noise  can 
trouble  her  now." 

"No,  my  poor  darling,  is  it  so  bad  as  that?" 
said  tlie  alarmed  gentleman,  drawing  her  to  his 
knee,  and  gently  stroking  her  hair. 

"  Oh,  but  it  is,"  she  sobbed,  breaking  down 
utterly  under  his  sympathy,  and  hiding  her  head 
on  his  bosom.  "  The  doctors  were  here  half  the 
night,  Ray  is  in  South  America,  and  Herbert  sick 


IU„'i«9tii« 


■-.^-WUW* 


''FOR  HERBERT'S  SAKE: 


51 


Let  me  play 
up  until  her 

I  her  lips. 

rself,  Stanton 
taking  such 

^er  have  liked 

ert's  sake  ?  " 
"You  see,  I 

efore,  and  it 
be  real  good, 

not  Herbert," 

o  the  sitting- 

You  don't 
of  this  house 
a  trembling 

nson   and   he 
the  side  door 
h  the  bell." 
weeks.      But 
No  noise  can 

lad  as  that?" 
ng  her  to  his 

•eaking   down 

ling  her  head 

here  half  the 

Herbert  sick 


at  N .     Oh,  Stanton,  my  heart  has  been  so 

lieavy,  and  I'm  so  glad  you've  come." 

"  I'm  glad,  too,"  answered  the  gentleman. 
"  But  what  can  you  mean  by  saying  Herl)ert  is 
sick '/  I  had  a  letter  from  him  a  few  weeks  ago, 
and  he  was  quite  well  then." 

"  Read  this,  and  see."  Olive  drew  Mre. 
Rogers'  letter  from  her  pocket,  sliding  from  his 
knee,  and  looking  very  much  abashed. 

"If  I  hadn't  felt  so  badly  I  would  not  have 
acted  so  foolishly,  Stanton,"  she  said,  apologet- 
ically. ;-'■;.  ^'.  :.■■'•;;.'.-,- 

Don't  excuse  yourself,  Ollie.  It  isn't  neces- 
saiy.  I  think  I  am  an  old  enough  friend  of  the 
family  not  to  need  apologies,"  he  replied,  smiling. 
"  You  must  not  force  me  to  say  I'm  rejoiced  you 
feel  badly — that  wouldn't  be  polite.  Yet  I  can- 
not possibly  regret  that  you  Ijave  at  hist  accorded 
me  a  few  of  the  privileges  I  have  so  long  cov- 
eted." 

"  It  was  for  Herbert's  sake,"  she  said,  timidly. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  his  brown  eyes  twinkling  mis- 
chievously, "  I  owe  it  all  to  Herbert." 

"  And  because  you  were  so  much  together,  I 
never  see  you  without  thinking  of  him." 

"  Couldn't  you  go  just  a  step  farther,  Ollie,  and 
add  that  you  never  see  him  without  thinking  of 
me?" 

"No,  I  couldn't,"  she  answered  shortly,  and 
flushing  hotly.  "  I  thought  you  wanted  to  read 
that  letter." 


;=! 


h 


II 


52 


HERBERT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


She  walked  about  the  room,  straightening 
things  here  and  there,  her  hands  trembling  a 
little,  in  unison  with  the  flutter  at  her  heai*t. 

"  You  must  not  let  this  worry  you,"  the  gentle- 
man said  presently,  looking  up  from  the  sheet. 
"  Herv  is  a  strong  fellow,  you  know,  and  young. 
Then  tliese  slow  fevers  are  apt  to  be  more  tedious 
than  dangerous.  We  shall  have  him  all  right 
presently.     What  ai'e  you  doing.  Puss?" 

She  was  standing  with  her  back  toward  him, 
idling. 

"  Nothing,"  she  replied.  "  But  I  ought  to  be 
doing  everything.  I  don't  know  where  to  begin. 
I'm  the  only  pei-sou  In  this  house  that  can 
work " 

"  Except  me,"  he  sl3-ly  interjected. 

"  And  there  isn't  a  thing  done,"  she  wer.'t  on, 
ignoring  the  interruption.  "  Cook  left  last  night, 
we  haven't  a  maid,  and  this  room  needs  some 
sweeping  and  dusting.  Then  there's  dinner  to 
get,"  dolefully. 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  cheerily.  - '   '     3  -    ' 

"All?"  fli  -tuinjj  up.  "What  more  would  you 
want?" 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  particular,  only,  Ollie,  I  can  help 
you  out  with  so  much  easily." 

"  You  I  what  could  you  do  ?  " 

"  Sit  right  here  in  this  big  chair  and  rest,  while 
I  show  you  how  I  can  sweep  and  dust.  Where  is 
the  sweeper?  Oh,  yes,  I  remember,  in  the  hi*ll 
closet." 


'FOR  HEHBEBT'a  SAKE." 


68 


Ho  was  out  and  back  in  a  flash,  a  sweeping-cap 
that  hung  on  a  peg  in  the  closet  in  one  hand. 
He  adjusted  it  over  his  brown  curls  at  the  mirror, 
and  turned  with  gi-eat  gmvity  to  meet  her  laugh- 
ing eyes. 

"  What  makes  you  act  so  ridiculously,  Stanton, 
and  mamina  so  sick?  It's  wicked  to  make  me 
laugh,  even  for  a  minute." 

"  Who  says  so  ?  not  mamma  herself ;  she  would 
be  glad  to  know  her  little  girl  could  forget  her 
sorrow  for  a  while.  But  I'm  not  making  you 
laugh,  I  am  getting  ready  to  work." 

And  work  he  did.  Olive  watched  in  suiprise, 
as  with  a  few  deft  movements  he  took  up  the 
dust  and  threads  on  the  carpet,  rearranged  the 
pillows  on  the  couch,  straightened  the  books  on 
the  table  and  what-not. 

He  borrowed  her  duster,  and  in  an  incredibly 
short  time  stood  ready  for  something  else,  while 
everything  in  the  room  looked  fresh  and  bright 
from  his  touch. 

"  You  are  smarter  than  any  girl  we  ever  had  and 
much  tastier,"  she  exclaimed  admiringly. 

"Of  couree.  What  did  you  expect  from  my 
mother's  son?"  he  laughed.  "Now  if  you  will 
take  my  arm  we  will  descend  to  the  kitchen, 
empty  our  sweeper  and  prepare  for  dinner.  What 
are  we  going  to  have  for  dinner,  mademoiselle  ? " 

"  Steak  with  vegetables ;  the  only  thing  I  know 
anything  about.  I  bsiieve  there  is  a  pie,  baked 
yesterday,  and  papa  will  bring  home  fresh  bread. 


■I 


54 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


If  it  wasn't  for  nurse  I  wouldn't  have  attempted 
any  dinner.     Papa  and  I  don't  care  for  food." 

"But  I  do,"  cried  the  youth,  "Don't  forget  I 
am  here  now  and  must  be  fed,  and  you  must  eat 
whether  you  wish  or  not.  If  I  don't  broil  a  steak 
that  will  tempt  you,  then  I  am  not  worthy  of  my 
reputation  as  a  cook." 

"  What  a  comfort  you  are,  Stanton ! " 

"Am  I  not?"  diving  his  head  into  the  pot-closet 
and  drawing  forth  a  kettle.  "Let's  see,  the  vege- 
tables are  in  the  cellar,  I  suppose  ?  " 
-  "I  suppose  they  are,"  assented  Olive,  following 
him  like  a  child,  diverted  for  the  present  from  her 
sorrow.     "Where  did  you  learn  so  much?" 

"At  home,  helping  my  mother.  She  was  sick  a 
good  deal  and  could  not  afford  help." 

"  Wliat  a  blessing  1  not  the  sickness  I  mean,  but 
^but "  ^    , 

"The  lack  of  help?" 

"  Yes,  I  wish  I  knew  as  much,  but  I  am  going 
to  learn.  Mamma  thought  I  ought,  before 
going  out  either  into  the  world  or  the  mission 
field." 

"  It  certainly  is  a  good  thing  to  be  handy,"  an- 
swered Stanton,  bowl  and  knife  in  hand,  as  he  began 
paring  the  potatoes.  "  Just  think  what  a  shining 
example  I  will  be  to  the  darkies  in  Africa,  who 
expect  their  women  to  do  all  the  work." 

■'  You  will  have  to  eat  a  bit  of  this  steak,  or  I 
shall  refuse  to  help  you  wash  the  dishes,"  said  this 
same  young  man  an  hour  later  as  he  set  an  appe- 


!hi.M 


'FOR  HERBERT'S  SAKE." 


66 


e  attempted 
I-  food." 
on't  forget  I 
ou  must  eat 
broil  a  steak 
srthy  of  my 


he  pot-closet 
ee,  the  vege- 

'e,  following 
3nt  from  her 
ich?" 
e  was  sick  a 

I  mean,  but 


"There,  isn't 


tizing  mowel  before  the  maiden, 
that  nice." 

"  I  never  tasted  better,"  she  affirmed,  eating  it 
with  relisli. 

"And  now,  please,"  sUtnding  before  her  as  she 
finished  the  last  mouthful,  "  I  beg  your  pardon 
for  asking  guch  a  favor,  but  couldn't  you  give  the 
cook  just  the  tiniest  kiss  for  his  own  sake  and  not 
Herbert's."  Bending  so  close,  it  would  not  have 
been  difficult  to  satisfy  him. 

"Perhaps  I  ought,  you  have  helped  me  so  much, 
but— but— "  she  hesitated—  "  I  couldn't  think  of 
leaving  out  Hervie.  It  will  have  to  be  for  both  of 
you,  Stanton." 

"  Then  it  will  have  to  be  double,"  he  responded 
cheerfully,  "but  I  shall  not  mind  that." 


I  am  going 
ght,  before 
the  mission 


-■:,->:■ 


"■A'-i0^ 


-  ^■••(-.o  *'-;*  -"■'■/-;-(■■ 


handy,"  an- 
,  as  he  began 
at  a  shining 
Africa,  who 


I  steak,  or  I 
)S,"  said  this 
iet  an  appe- 


ir 


66 


UEHBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JB. 


.    CHAPTER  V. 

A  PHE8CRIPTION. 

"  Tliero  will  he  no  Chiisli&n  without  a  Oethsemane,  bat 
every  praying  Christian  will  find  that  each  Gethsemane  has  iu 

angel." 

Mr  Gardenell  did  not  come  home  to  dinner. 
He  iVRfl  closeted  with  Homce  Genaaine,  and  that 
gentlaniftn'u  face  was  only  loss  anxious  than  his 
own.  :    s 

"  We  have  done  all  we  could,  Gardenell,"  he 
said  tremulously.  "  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you,  who 
know  what  your  wife  has  l>een  to  my  life,  tliat  I 
have  exerted  my  utmost  skill  to  spare  her  to  your 

love." 

"I  know,  Horace,  I  know,"  the  clergyman 
touched  the  doctor's  hand  lovingly.  "  But  now, 
what  now  ?  Don't  tell  me  you  have  given  her 

up?"         ■       ,-:-:.:  ^ 

"Into  the  hands  of  God,"  answered  the  doctor 
with  emotion.  "  We  have  exhausted  every  avail- 
able means,  we  know  of  only  one  other  thing  that 
offers  any  possibility  of  help,  and  it  is  so  uncertain 
in  her  case  that  it  is  almost  cruel  to  mention  it  to 
you.'  ., ;    .^..,,^ 


Jethsemane,  bnt 
aUsenuine  hu  iU 

T.  BlNNEY. 

line  to  dinner, 
aine,  and  that 
;iou8  than  his 

raidenell,"  he 
)  tell  you,  who 
my  life,  tliat  I 
re  her  to  your 

le  clergyman 
r.  "  But  now, 
ve  given  her 

red  the  doctor 
id  every  avall- 
her  thing  that 
is  so  uncertain 
mention  it  to 


A  PRESCRIPriON. 


w 


"Niinie  it,"  /ied  the  gentleman  under  his 
breath,  his  extreme  quiet  licHpeaking  the  excite- 
ment under  which  he  was  laboring.  "  It  must  be 
tried,  however  uncertain.'^ 

"  It  shall  be  tried,"  was  the  reply.  "  It  is  trans- 
fusion, the  injecting  into  lier  veins  of  blood  from 
some  healthy  pewon.  Gardenell,  I  want  you  to 
undei-stand  me.  While  this  oimration  has  been 
successful  in  many  cfises,  it  is  extremely  doubtful 
whether  it  will  be  so  or  not  in  your  wife's  case,  as 
her  vittility  is  very  low.  If  it  fails  I  know  of 
nothing  else." 

"  It  must  not  fail,  it  will  not."  I  have  asked  for 
hope,  just  hope,  and  you  give  it.  Horace,"  look- 
ing up  into  the  doctor's  eyes,  "  Horace,  you  know 
what  I  wish  to  Jisk  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  emphatically  refuse  to  listen  to  your 
request,"  was  the  pi-ompt  reply. 

"And  why?" 

"You  ask  that?  Listen,  Because  it  is  written 
*  Thou  shalt  not  kill.'  One  droj)  of  blood  less  iit 
your  heart  would  mean  insUuit  death." 

Something  like  an  unutterod  moan,  passed  over 
the  minister's  face.  "  The  will  of  the  Lord  be 
done,"  he  said  brokenly.  And  his  loiijj-time  friend 
put  both  arms  about  his  shoulders. 

"  It  is  not  like  you  to  yield  to  despair  while  God 
lives,  ray  dear  pastor,"  he  said.  "  I  want  you  to 
know  how  gladly  I  would  put  my  own  lil'o  at  her 
disposal  did  I  dare.  Btit  some  things  are  forbid- 
den even  to  love.    We  are  not  to  commit  suicide 


|Ki«iSift'a>'  *&«&;  r5.!#ff'tes- 


58 


UBRRKRT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


to  Hpare  the  life  of  our  deiireHt.  If  God  sees  that 
ti'HiiMfuHioii  will  avail,  He  will  certainly  furni.sti 
the  needed  Hulwtitute,  and  he  Kure  I  will  leave  no 
stone  unturned  to  find  n  suitahle  2)er8on." 

Mr.  Gardenell  liad  no  heart  to  meet  his  daugh- 
ter, and  quietly  let  himself  into  his  house,  going 
at  once  to  his  study  and  his  knees.  No  one  could 
help  him  now  but  God.  He  forgot  dinner,  forgot 
sermon,  forgot  everything  hut  his  need  and  God's 
ubility  to  meet  it.  He  forgot  even  the  hungry  cry 
of  his  heart  after  his  fii-st-born.  Like  Olive  he 
jitwl  learned  to  lean  iieavily  on  Herbert,  liis  \\\y- 
Benco  at  this  time  had  been  a  dire  calamity. 
Horace  Germaino  had  said  :  '  ] 

"  If  Herbert  was  here  and  in  his  xisual  health,  I 
would  unhesitatingly  use  him,"  thus  voicing  the 
foremost  thought  of  this  father's  heart.  He  was 
rebuked  immediately. 

"  If — if  I "  Mary  and  Martha  of  old  used  that 
impotent  little  word  too,  but  it  was  in  resi)ect  to 
their  Lord.  "  If  Thou  hailst  been  liere  my  brother 
had  not  died." 

Was  he  daring  to  put  another  in  the  place  of 
his  Christ  ?  Could  any  other  but  God  avert  death  ? 
Was  He  straightened  for  means?  Could  it  be 
possible  he  was  learning  to  substitute  any  other 
for  his  Maker?  Unconsciously  pk  ^ing  his  de- 
pendence on  this  son  God  had  given  him,  rather 
than  on  the  Giver  Himself?  Was  it  necessary 
for  God  to  so  smite,  and  so  strip  him  of  all  his 
props,  to  teach  him  there  was  help  in  no  other? 


tk 


jloil  sees  that 
tiiiily  furnitth 
will  leave  no 

iOll 

n'.t  liis  daugli- 
liouse,  goiiipf 
No  one  could 
Jiiiner,  forgot 
ed  and  God's 
le  hungry  cry 
ike  Olive  he 
rbert,  liis  n\>- 
ire  calami  ly. 
-■  f^'. :- ■'■;*■ 'c   '  'p 

sual  health,  I 
8  voicing  the 
art.    He  was 

)ld  used  that 

in  re8i)ect  to 

re  my  brother 

I  the  place  of 
i  avert  death  ? 
Could  it  be 
ute  any  other 
z  ling  his  de- 
3n  him,  rather 
)  it  necessary 
him  of  all  his 
1  no  other? 


A  PUESCltlPTION. 


69 


Humbled,  broken,  he  lay  on  his  face  before  his 
■Creator.  He  would  accept  the  will  of  God,  lie 
would  not  even  prefer  anything  before  it.  He 
would  axk  only  that  it  be  fully  accnmi»li8hed  in 
him  and  his.  "  Not  my  will  but  Thine  Im  done," 
ho  whispered  brokenly,  and  found  the  S.wiour's 
added  words  trembling  on  his  tongue :  "  If  it  bo 
possible  let  this  cup  pass  from  me." 

There  was  no  sin  in  that  spontaneous  prayer.  It 
liad  been  purified  long  since  by  its  passage  through 
the  lips  of  the  Holiest.  It  brought  to  this  man,  by 
its  very  utterance,  as  it  does  to  all  othera,  some- 
thing of  the  Divine  Hope  and  the  Divine  Submis- 
sion that  stirred  the  breast  of  the  Divinely-human 
Brother  who  first  breathed  it. 

ITe  remembered  with  a  moan — this  human  fol- 
lower of  that  more  than  human  Christ — that  for 
the  one  who  fii-st  offered  this  petition,  it  was  not 
possible  the  cup  should  pass,  it  must  be  drained. 
"  Even  so.  Father,"  he  said,  and  then  his  heart 
broke  as  the  old  story  of  Abmham  and  Isaac  stood 
out  before  him,  and  the  Spirit  whispered  that  God 
spared  His  servant's  heart  and  son  when  He  could 
not  spare  His  own. 

His  whole  soul  was  melted  under  the  realization 
of  such  love,  and  he  lay  with  upturned  face,  over 
which  crept  smiles  like  rainbows  amidst  his  tears, 
as  his  being  responded  to  the  mighty  touch  of  his 
gmcious  God.  Whatever  should  follow,  he  must 
always  thank  God  for  this  hour  of  privilege,  of 
revelation.    Whatever  should  follow  his  hand  was 


»0 


IIKRHKHT  OAHDENELL,  JR. 


Hmily  cliuiped  in  His  who  held  the  world  aiid  held 
hirt  (larliiig'8  lifu  iw  wfll.  He  iiiul  proven  tha 
wuihIh  uf  anothur:  "  Sund-UmkH  and  eliifH,  whirl* 
pooU  and  UimpostM,  dark  ni^httt  and  thick  fog! 
And  yot,  on  HUch  a  Hea,  I  iind  myself  ns  well  i\a 
those  who  rent  in  the  haven." 

I'erhaiw  it  wiiH  the  unusual  company  downstaii-H 
that  made  Olive  oblivious  to  her  father's  home- 
coming. His  step,  howover  guarded,  had  never 
before  eHcaped  her  listening  ear.  As  it  was,  the 
two  below  waited  in  blissful  ignoiance  of  his 
vicinity  until  Stanton  suggested  that  nurae  nmst 
need  her  dinner  and  ought  to  l>e  relieved. 

This  was  a  duty  from  which  Olive  shrank  since 
her  mother  iiad  been  so  low.  She  dreaded  to  meet 
the  still,  white  face ;  it  made  her  heart  sink.  The 
young  man  needed  only  a  glimpse  of  her  own 
face  to  understand  this. 

"  I  would  go  myself,  Olive,"  he  said,  "  only  nurse 
might  object  to  a  stranger,  one  she  had  never  mot 
before.     I  will  soon  be  in  a  position  to  relievo  you." 

"  You  do  not  think  I  am  unwilling  to  do  any- 
thing for  mamma  ?  "  she  answered.  "  You  must 
not  suppose  it  would  be  hard  for  me,  to  take  her 
place  if  I  could.  If  I  might  suffer  for  her,  instead 
of  her,  I  would  do  it  gladly  !  But,  O  Stanton, 
that  sick  woman  up  there  isn't  mamma.  She  is 
hollow  and  old,  and  has  no  resemblance  to  my 
mother.  If  yon  should  see  that  face  just  once  it 
would  haunt  you  as  it  does  me,  driving  away  all 
sleep  and  peace," 


'■H. 


A  FBM^VBienoif. 


91 


rUl  iuhI  lipid 
in'oveii   tlie 

clIffM,  whirl- 
thick    fo^I 

f  ns  well  lis 

y  down8tiiii-H 
ther'M  hotno- 
,  had  luiver 
i  it  wtw,  the 
ance  of  his 
:  nurse  luust 
fed. 

Hhrank  since 

tided  to  meet 

t  sink.     The 

of  her  own 

"  only  nurse 
A  never  mot 
relieve  you." 
g  to  do  any- 

"  You  must 
.  to  take  her 
'  her,  instead 
,  O  Stanton, 
I  ma.  She  is 
lance   to  my 

just  once  it 
'lug  away  all 


But  hIio  wenMnd  presently  nurMe  fti)pcnred,  and 
while  hIk^  iito  the  delicious  stcjik  luul  «leli.ato  toiint 
her  gentloiium  waiter  had  prepared,  ho  learned  all 
he  littil  \  ished  to  know  of  the  sick-chamber  and  iU 
occupant. 

"Have  the  doctors  given  up  all  hope?"  he 
questioned. 

*♦  Not  quite.  From  something  Professor  Ger- 
maine  dropped  this  morning  I  should  judge  he  had 
decided  to  try  transfusion." 

♦'  And  you  think  it  may  prove  successful  ?  " 
"  I  have  known  it  to  work  wonders  occasionally," 
she  i-eplied.  "  Mra.  (iardenell  is  very  weak,  her 
life  seems  to  liang  by  a  single  thread.  But  he  sure 
if  anything  can  strengthen  that  thread  it  will  be 
done.  Such  devotion  as  not  only  Mr.  Gardenell 
and  his  daughter,  but  these  physicians  have  shown, 
I  have  seldom  seen  equalled.  They  have  fought 
desperately  over  every  inch  of  ground  she  has  lost, 
and  if  she  dies  it  will  be  in  spite  of  the  most  de- 
termined effort  to  save  her." 

It  was  not  long  after  the  dinner  dishes  were 
washed  that  Stanton  made  his  next  proi)08ition. 

'*  I  am  going  out  while  you  take  a  nap,  OUie. 
Can't  you  lend  me  a  latch-key  so  I  need  disturb  no 
one  by  my  return  ?  " 

»  No  I-^Yes  !    Oh,  don't  go  away,  Stanton  I " 
"  Not  even  if  business  of  importance  demands 
my  attention  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Why,  if  you  must  I  suppose  you  must," — slow- 
ly.   "  But  come  right  back.     It  seems  ivs  if  I  could 


: 


;;■■",  ;iV>v^. 


ii' 


,■  II 


62  HERBERT  OARDENELL,  JR. 

not  bear  to  lose  sight  of  you,  now  you've  really 
corae." 

"  I  will  never  forsake  Micawbsr,"  said  the 
young  man,  drolly.  "  I'm  here  to  stay,  Princess, 
to  stay  until  the  danger  is  past  and  your  mother 
begins  to  improve.  ' 

"  Do  you  i-eally  think  she  ever  will  ?  " 

"  I  almost  know  she  will,"  was  the  reply,  and 
the  glad  light  in  the  bmve  eyes  did  as  much  as  his 
words  towards  assuring  the  girl,  though  she  an- 
swered, doubtfully :  "  You  haven't  seen  her  yet." 

"  I  don't  need  to,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  so  glad  I 
am  here  and  can  tiike  care  of  you  all.  Now,  little 
girl,  promise  me  to  go  straight  to  your  room  when 
I  am  gone,  and  lie  down." 

"  I  can't  sleep  if  I  do.  I  haven't  slept  for 
nights." 

'*Poor  child!  No  wonder  your  nerves  are 
shaky  and  you  don't  know  how  to  hope.  We 
shall  change  all  that,  please  God.  You  will  sleep 
to-day ;  you  will  try  at  least,  to  please  me  ?  " 

"  I  hate  to  go  up  there  alone,  Stanton,  the  house 
is  so  still  and  ko  dreary ! " 

"Olive,  if  Herbert  assured  you  that  there  was 
hope  for  mamma,  and  bade  you  go  sleep,  trusting 
his  word,  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  would  believe  him ;  I  would  have  to." 

'"  And  what  more  ? "  his  eyes  holding  hera 
steadily. 

"I  would  obey  him."  ■  s  i- 

"I  take  Herbert's  place,  do  I  not?"  smiling. 


.'ytiihfev.. 


■wamm 


B. 


A  PRESCRIPTION. 


68 


i^ou've  really 

r,"  said  the 
ay,  Princess, 
your  mother 

2»    -■■'•■■ 

e  reply,  and 
}  much  as  his 
>ugh  she  an- 
jen  her  yet." 
am  so  glad  I 
Now,  little 
r  room  when 

I't  slept  for 

nerves    are 
hope.     We 

ou  will  sleep 

3  me?" 

on,  the  house 

at  there  was 
eep,  trusting 

veto." 
lolding   hers 


t?"  smiling. 


"  Now  I  assure  you  that  I  believe  God  has  an- 
swered prayer  for  your  mother,  and  that  before 
long  she  will  be  herself  again.  I  ask  you  because 
you  trust  God  and  believe  me,  to  go  lie  down  and 
rest ;  get  strength  ready  for  the  days  when  she  will 
need  you.     Will  you  obey  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  try." 

"  That's  a  good  little  Princess  !  Nov/  I  have  a 
prescription  which,  if  followed,  will  ensure  you 
rest.     See,  I  will  write  it  down." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  pencil  and  scrap  of 
paper,  and,  after  scribbling  a  few  words,  slipj^ed  it 
into  her  hand.  "  Read  this  on  your  knees  when 
you  reach  your  room,  put  it  under  your  head  for  a 
pillow,  and  rest." 

She  followed  him  to  the  hall,  held  his  coat  and 
hat,  lifted  the  soberest  of  faces  for  his  farewell 
kiss,  and  winked  hard  to  keep  back  the  teaw 
when  he  shut  the  door. 

"  I  am  foolish,  weak,  wicked  1 '  2^,3  said.  "  Dis- 
trust of  God  must  be  the  sin  of  sins  ;  and  I,  some- 
how I  can  neither  pray  nor  believe."  She  did  not 
consider  how  the  long  strain  of  these  weeks  had 
been  sapping  her  strength,  as  she  thus  condemned 
herself. 

Mechanically  she  turned  to  go  upstairs,  her 
paper-slip  forgotten  in  her  hand.  As  she  came  to 
the  study  door  she  paused.  Why  not  peep  in  ? 
Perhaps  papa  was  there.  She  did  not  expect  to 
see  his  face,  but  it  met  here.  A  face  so  radiant 
with  some  inner  joy  that  she  cried  out,  eagerly : 


m 


64 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JE. 


"Is  she  better?  Do  the  doctora  hopt;  ?  OIj, 
papa,  am  I  the  only  faithless  one  ?  " 

He  drew  her  to  his  arms.  "Poor  little  one, 
your  body  clogs  your  soul  I  You  are  utterly 
weary.  No,  my  darling,  nothing  is  changed, 
mamma  is  no  better  :  the  doctoi-s  offer  little  hope. 
But  God's  will  is  sure  to  be  done,  and  I  know — I 
know  without  a  shadow  of  a  doubt" — a  thrill  of 
exultancy  trembling  through  his  voice — "  I  know 
His  will  is  the  best  thing  that  can  come  to  you,  to 
her,  to  me." 

And,  clinging  to  his  bosom,  Olive  shed  freely 
the  teai-8  she  had  long  restrained.  Was  not  this 
the  precursor  of  death,  this  stmnge  uplifting  of 
her  father's  spirit  ?  Was  not  God  preparing  him 
for  the  blow  so  sure  to  fall  ? 

The  gentleman  did  not  disturb  her.  His  gentle 
hand  stroked  her  soft  hair  occasionally,  but  he 
was  glad  she  could  weep ;  for  youth  there  is  heal- 
ing in  tears.  By-and-by  her  sobs  ceased,  and  she 
lay,  weak  and  quiet,  on  his  Iwsom. 

"Did  you  come  to  papa  for  any  thing  special?" 
he  asked  then. 

"  No.  I  was  going  up  to  lie  down  awhile,  and 
thought  I  would  peep  in.  I  did  not  know  you 
had  come." 

"  Let  me  take  you  to  your  room.  Perhaps  you 
can  sleep  now,  my  tired  darling."  And  gathering 
her  closer  in  his  anns  he  carried  her  to  her  cham- 
ber and  deposited  her  on  the  bed.  He  arranged 
the  pillows  under  her  head,  drew  a  heavy  wrap 


Jg^^jmvwwjfta 


A  PRESCRIPTION. 


65 


lOpt;  ?       Oil, 

little  one, 
are  utterly 
3    changed, 

little  hope. 
[  I  know — I 
-a  thrill  of 
)— "  I  know 
le  to  you,  to 

shed  freely 
^as  not  this 
uplifting  of 
eparing  him 

His  gentle 
illy,  but  he 
lere  is  heal- 
led,  and  she 

ig  special?" 

awhile,  and 
1  know  you 

Perhaps  you 
id  gathering 
o  her  cham- 
ie  arranged 
heavy  wrap 


over  her  and  whispered,  "  now  sleep  and  think  iio 
moi-e,"  kissing  her  eyelids  over  her  eyes.  A  mo- 
inent  after  she  was  alone. 

Almost  too  weak  to  move,  she  lay  quite  still, 
but  she  did  not  try  to  sleep.  She  knew  now  that 
her  mother  would  die.  She  had  feared  it  for 
weeks,  at  last  she  was  sure.  But  she  had  no 
more  teai-s  to  shed.  She  turned  over  wearily, 
and  the  little  paper  billet  fell  from  her  hand. 

Stanton  !  She  had  forgotten  to  speak  of  his 
coming  to  her  father,  forgotten  his  message,  his 
bidding.  Lifting  the  tiny  slip  she  read :  "  I  will 
trust  arnl  not  be  afraid."  Isa.  12  :  2.  The  em- 
phatic words  were  underscored. 

She  read  the  Avords  over  and  over.  Surely  they 
were  meant  for  her.  Did  not  God  think  of  this 
day  and  her  sorrow,  when  He  inspired  His  prophet 
to  write  them  ?  Why  not  ?  If  He  wrote  of  the 
Buiferings  of  Christ  seven  hundred  years  before 
His  birth,  took  cognizance  of  her  sin  and  prepared 
a  i-emedy  for  it,  why  not  of  her  woe  also,  and  its 
comforting,  though  these  words  were  written  more 
than  two  thousand  years  before  her  sense  of  need  ? 

Somehow  the  unfailing,  ever-present  care  of  her 
God  took  hold  on  her  heart — His  thoughtful  love 
for  the  weakest  of  His  own.  "  A  sparrow  shall 
not  fall  on  the  ground  without  your  Father." — 
"  Ye  are  of  more  valre  than  many  spaiTows."— 
"  The  very  hairs  of  your  head  are  ail  numbered." 
— "  In  all  their  affliction  He  was  afflicted,  and  the 
angel  of  His  presence  saved  them." 
S 


-:i 


111 


:  i! 


n 


I?  I 

lis 


63 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


Teare  were  slipping  fiom  under  her  lids  now- 
gentle,  helpful  tears.  The  soothing  had  reached 
her  soul;  and  with  the  hand  holding  the  little 
preacher  under  her  cheek,  she  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep. 


(.1  '-"'■■' 


'«* 


# 


ids  now — 

d  reached 

the  little 

to  a  deep 

')  ■'      '-''■ 

■-'_V" 

'-'^-  ..':-'■  ^h''  ,■■■■■ 

1^! 

:"V"*-:v 

■?i,  ■■::'■■.-. 

"nous  OF  ONE  FATHER." 


vt 


Ipf       • ::         CHAPTER  VI. 

"  SONS  OF  ONE  FATHER." 

"Your  way  may  be  closed,  but  His  way  is  open.    (Sod 
knows  all  when  you  know  nothing  at  al'  " 

CUABLES  SPUKOKON. 

A  RAP  at  the  study  door. 

Mr.  Gardenell  had  not  heard  any  one  approach, 
but  he  said  "  Come,"  and  then  sprang  forward  in 
astonishment  to  clasp  a  tall,  stalwart  youth  to  his 
heart. 

"  Stanton,  my  dear,  dear  boy,  where  did  you 
come  from  ?  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  I  " 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  gla '  to  be  here.  'Twould 
be  a  queer  fellow  who  wouldn't  be,  after  such  a 
welcome." 

"  When  did  you  come  ?  Are  you  going  to  stay 
awhile?  It  seems  almost  like  having  Herbert 
home  to  see  you." 

"  Just  what  Olive  said  the  moment  she  saw  my 
face." 

"Olive I  Have  you  Seen  Olive?"  in  surprise. 
"I  was  up  to  her  room  not  five  minutes  ago  and 
she  was  fast  asleep." 

"  Good  I  she  promised  me  to  go  to  bed.    She  is 


UBRBERT  OAHDEyELL,  JR. 


all  worn  out.     It  is  lucky  I  happened  around  at 
just  this  time." 

"  Lucky  1  happened  I  I  don't  like  those  terms. 
But  when  did  you  see  Olive  ?  she  was  in  my  arms 
an  hour  before  going  to  bed  ;  indeed,  I  carried  her 
to  her  room,  and  she  never  mentioned  your  name. 
When  did  you  arrive  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sometime  tliis  forenoon.  I  was  the  Biddy 
who  cooked  dinner  for  this  establishment,  and 
waited  on  table,"  laughing  at  tlie  gentleman's  in- 
credulous astonishment.  "  Ask  Olive  if  she  was 
not  moaning  over  the  work,  when  all  the  while 
a  firat-class  cook  and  excellent  housemaid  was  on 
his  way  thither  ?  "     ■■";:« 

"  Add  a  big  sunbeam  to  your,  list  of  excel- 
lences while  you  are  at  it,  Stanton,"  smiled  the 
gentleman.  "  Your  very  presence  is  exhilarating. 
I  am  glad  you  are  here  with  your  quick  wlt^s.  I 
am  not  to  be  trusted.  I  was  to  hunt  uj.  n  servant 
for  my  poor  little  girl  and  forgot  it.  My  talk 
with  Germaine  drove  everything  except  one  out 
of  my  head.  I  suppose  my  talk  witli  Olive  did- 
the  same  for  her.  Of  course  you  know  of  the 
sorrow  that  has  befallen  us,  Stanton  ?  " 

The  young  man  put  his  hand  familiarly  and 
tenderly  over  the  one  the  clergyman  had  laid  on 
his  knee. 

"  That  prince  of  preachers — Charles  Spurgeon 
— says,  '  Affliction  is  the  seal  of  the  Lord's  elec- 
tion,' sir,"  he  said.  "  I  have  just  come,  myself^ 
from  Di'.  Germaine's  office." 


around  at 


)se  terms. 
1  my  arms 
arried  lier 
)ur  name. 


the  Biddy 
nent,  and 
iman's  in- 
if  she  was 
the  while 
id  was  on 

of  excel- 
miled  the 
lilarating. 
k  wit-a.  I 
n  servant 
My  talk 
t  one  out 
Olive  did. 
»w  of  the 

liarly  and 
\d  laid  on 

Spurgeon 
ard's  elec- 
le,  myuelfi 


**  aON8  OF  ONE  FATHER.''       ^  68 

"And  know  all?" 

"  And  know  all,"  he  reiterated,  with  peculiar 
emphasis  on  the  last  word.  "  You  were  right, 
Mr.  Gardenell,  when  you  found  fault  with  my 
words,  'lucky'  and  *  happened.'  Not  luck,  but 
God  sent  me  here  to  take  Herbert's  place  in  thin 
hour  of  need.  I  have  already  placed  myself  at 
the  doctors'  disposal.  To-morrow  morning  they 
make  the  firat  trial.  I  want  you  to  look  forward 
t«)  the  result  with  largest  hope  and  expectation. 
Dr.  Germaine  said  his  faith  strengthened  mightily 
with  the  firat  glimpse  of  my  face.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  heaven  itself  was  interested  in  the  saving 
of  this  precious  life.     We  know  it  is." 

Mr.  Gardenell  could  not  speak  ;  too  many  were 
the  emotions  filling  his  breast.  He  bowed  his 
head  on  the  young  man's  shoulder  and  his  tears 
dropped  freely.  "  I  thank  thee,  Father,"  at  last 
he  murmured ;  and  then,  again,  "  Am  I  not  rich 
in  the  children  which  Thou  hast  given  me? 
Stanton,"  he  said,  by-and-by,  "  Herbert  could  not 
do  moi'e  than  this."  ;:;:.,,;,,    <   /  ?.     .     , 

"  Why  should  he,  sir  ?  Are  we  not  both  sons 
of  one  Father?" 

"  Yea,  and  henceforth  of  two  faUiera,"  replied 
Mr.  Gardenell  brokenly.  ^^      ■     .     - 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"And  who  shall  thank  you,  my  boy?  Stanton, 
did  the  doctor  tell  you  why  I  was  denied  the  privi- 
lege of  giving  part  of  my  life  to  feed  the  veins  of 
this  one  dearer  to  me  than  life?" 


mummmemmn- 


'«•', 


Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  young  man,  deeply 
moved.  "  He  told  nie  all,  and  also  that  for  the 
present  you  preferred  your  family  should  not  uo 
acquainted  with  the  factt;." 

"  You  can  see  my  reasons,"  continued  the  ,.lder 
g-»ntleman.  "I  was  not  myself  iware  of  .^lo  I  nth 
viL.il  recen'.iy,  thou  ^h  I  ftured  it  for  some  time 
pat>.     It  must  not  h«»  hreathed." 

"  It  will  not  be,  sir." 

'  I  am  sure  of  that.  Do  you  know  what  a  load 
yoii  'ift  from  my  heart  by  your  generous  offer? 
The  doctors  no  doubt  couhl  have  found  somebody 
to  serve  them  for  reward  ;  but  it  is  such  relief  to 
know  no  strange,  no  defiling  blood  will  mingle 
with  hers.  Henceforth  v/ill  you  not  be  life  of  our 
life,  flesh  of  our  flesh  ?  Whichever  way  the  scales 
of  destiny  may  turn  from  this  day  I  have  another 
son." 

"  I  was  bold  enough  to  hope  for  that  privilege 
before  this  event  occurred,"  said  Stanton,  trying 
to  speak  lightly  and  thus  hide  his  emotion. 

"  Had  you  ever  a  doubt  ?  "  asked  the  gentleman 
smiling. 

"  Not  a  serious  one,  to  be  truthful.  Yet  I  have 
made  hast^i  slowly  and  with  some  questioning. 
Where  his  own  heart  is  concerned  one  does  not 
always  relish  bf^ing  loved  for  another's  sake,  even 
if  that  other  is  his  best  friend,"  admitted  the  youth 
ruefully. 

■:-  "Stanton,"  said  Mr.  Gardenell  a  while  after,  as 
he  was  preparing  to  follow  the  young  man's  advice 


lan,  deeply 
:at  for  the 
»uid  not  iiO 

d  the  ..Ider 

»f  .1.0  I  nth 
some  time 


(vhat  a  ]')ad 
rous  offer  ? 
;l  somebody 
eh  relief  to 
vill  mingle 
I  life  of  our 
y  the  scales 
ive  another 

at  privilege 

iton,  trying 

lion. 

)  gentleman 

Yet  I  have 
l^uestioniug. 
16  does  not 

sake,  even 
d  the  youth 

ile  after,  as 
nan's  advice 


j^j 


.^ 


MB 


"SOMS  OF  0.\K  FA  THE  U." 


u 


and  descf  i.d  '.0  the  diniuj^-iooni,  "Stanton,  the  doc- 
tor xamined  you  carefully.  You  are  sure  this 
experiment  will  not  hari    you?" 

"  I  wisli  it  would.  Then  1  might  prove  to  you 
how  much  1  OTe  you  all.  As  it  is  I  am  suffering 
%•  ■  each  ;  the  excess  of  blood  in  my  vei.is  endan- 
gei-8  '".y  brain,"  with  comical  seriousness.  "  And 
iKdides  being  a  positive  boon  to  mo  physically,  it 
ta  just  what  I  need  from  a  student's  standpoint. 
You  forget  I  am  an  aspiring  M.  D.  with  much  to 
learn.  This  experience  will  be  of  untold  benefit. 
Who  knows,  I  may  have  to  open  my  veins  to  some 
poor  African  some  day,  and  may  bless  God  for 
what  I  learn  to-morrow." 

The  gentleman  pressed  the  hand  in  his.    "  Y 
are  not  sufferijig  from  lack  of  heart,  Cartwright ," 
he  said. 

"Nor  of  selfishness,"  asserted  the  young  p..ft  ^ 
"  The  whole  thing  is  a  simple  matter  of  peraca;  J 
gain,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  There  is  only  one 
thing  I  stipulate,"  he  continued,  hand  on  the  latch, 
"and  that  is  that  Olive  shall  kiiow  nothing  of  this 
affair,  at  least  not  for  some  yeara  to  come." 

"You  can't  imagine  your  cause  needs  Iwlstering 
and  fear  she  might  render  a  biased  judgment?" 
said  the  father. 

"  It  is  best  to  guard  against  such  a  contingency. 
Mark  you,"  shaking  his  head,  "  this  is  not  humil- 
ity. I  should  like  to  have  her  know  this,  should 
be  delighted  to  have  her  feel  indebted  to  me  for 
the  rest  of  her  natural  life.     But  this  is  where  I 


'"*^. 


ft 


HERBERT  GARDKffBLL,  JR. 


exercise  Helftleniiil  ;  I  am  determined  old  nature 
sliall  go  uiydur," — wlnmsioally. 

"Wliiit  a  seltlsh  mortal  he  isl"  said  Mr.  Gar. 
denell,  smiling.  **  Nevertheless  I  promise,"  put- 
ting liis  Hnger  to  his  lips. 

Wlien  Olive  descended  to  the  sitting-room  some 
time  after,  she  found  two  gentlemen  talking 
quietly  together,  one  with  a  moi-e  restful  look  on 
his  face  than  he  had  carried  for  months.  '* Stan- 
ton has  done  him  good,"  she  thought. 

*'  Now  that  you  have  come,  daughter,"  said  this 
one,  "  I  think  if  Stanton  will  excuse  me,  I  will 
leave  you  to  his  care,  and  call  on  Miss  French. 
In  my  own  selfish  sori-ow  1  have  quite  neglected 
her  in  her  illness.     I  will  try  not  to  be  gone  long." 

And  two  bright  young  faces  accompanied  him 
to  the  door,  and  two  paiiw  of  bright  young  eyes- 
one  brown,  one  l)lue — watchec  his  form  out  of 
sight  down  the  long  street;  and  then  two  very 
satisfied  young  people  dropped  into  chairs  and 
gazed  smilingly  into  each  other's  faooa. 


,:•    'i!*'" 


P 

fi 

tl 
SI 

h 

g 
k 

U 


■t^ 


II 


\A  i 


:>ld  iiteture 

1  Ml-.  fS&r- 
uiae,"  put- 
room  some 
III  tnlking 
ul  look  on 
M.     '*Stan- 

,"  said  this 
me,  I  will 
U8  French. 
)  neglected 
;one  long." 
panied  him 
ung  eyes — 
)rm  out  of 
I  two  very 
chairs  and 


^i  f- 


'*<• 


AS  ONK  TUAT  SXRVSTtJ. 


'"      CHAPTER  VII. 

AS   ONE  THAT  8BRVETH. 

"Her  loft  hand  put  Mide  the  assaults  of  wrath, 
And  calmly  broke  in  twain 
The  fiery  shafts  of  pain, 
-  And  rent  the  nets  of  passion  from  her  path." 

— WlUXail  GULLKN  BaTAHT. 

M188  French  was  a  sick  parishioner.  Her 
pasts  negligence  had  not  beep  noted;  too  truly 
were  his  people  sharing  with  him  his  honow  to 
find  fault  with  his  actions. 

Seated  in  the  invalid's  boudoir  answering  ques- 
tions, something  said  about  the  stmin  on  Olive 
suggested  to  Mr  Gardenell  their  need  of  help. 
He  stated  the  position  of  aflfuii-s,  inquiring  of  hia 
hostess  if  she  knew  where  he  could  find  an  intelli- 
gent woman  to  assist  his  daughter,  for  a  while  at 
least,  until  he  had  leisure  to  look  further. 

Even  as  he  spoke  a  young  lady  was  ushered  in- 
to the  room. 

"  Mr.  Gardenell— Miss  Erdley,"  said  Mr.  French, 
in  introduction.  The  gentleman  was  impressed 
with  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  young  face. 

♦*  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  this  stranger,  «  but  I 


T4 


UEHltKItT  OAIIDJCNELL,  Jit. 


i  ^ 


caught  onougli  of  your  couvorMiitioii,  oh  I  entered 
the  room,  to  uudei-atiiml  it8  drift.  I  tliink  I  can 
servo  you  f<»r  ii  few  \veek«,  Mr.  (iiirdenell,  if  you 
can  put  up  witii  sucli  sorvices  a«  I  vnn  render,  I 
am  a  fair  housekeeper,  and  can  copk  ordinary 
food." 

"  And  lift  burdens  from  weary  hearts,  I  see," 
smiled  the  gentlenmn,  gratefully.  "  Miss  Erdley, 
I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you  sufliciently  for 
your  kind  offer.  Nothing  could  be  better.  It 
will  l)e  such  a  comfort  to  my  daughter  to  have  the 
companionship  of  one  so  nearly  her  own  age." 
•'  But  I  shall  have  to  go  homo  each  night,"  she 
said.  "My  mother  is  something  of  an  invalid, 
and  would  need  me  then.  I  feel  sure  she  will 
spare  me  during  the  day." 

To  say  the  gentleman  was  relieved  is  speaking 
mildly.  He  could  not  have  hoped  to  procure  so 
refined  a  helper.  After  a  few  necessary  prelimi- 
naries he  departed,  leaving  his  card  and  address 
with  thin  new  friend,  who  promised  to  be  with 
them  early  the  next  morning. 

"  You  have  secured  a  jewel,"  said  his  hostess, 
as  she  accompanied  him  to  the  door.  "  Lenore 
Erdley  is  as  pure  and  sweet  as  she  is  strong  and 
helpful.  She  is,  moreover,  a  perfect  lady,  but  cir- 
cumstances make  it  necessary  for  her  to  earn  her 
living.  She  never  did  housework  before.  I  was 
amazed  at  hei  ofPer." 

Miss  Erdley  hei-self  was  somewhat  amazed  when 
she  found  heraelf  really  eiigaged  to  do  Mr.  Garden- 


u<  I  untured 
tliiiik  I  call 
anell,  if  you 
I  ruiider.  I 
?k  ordiiiary 

ftrts,  I  see," 

VIiHH  Firdley, 

fliuieiitly  for 

better.      It 

to  have  the 

•  own  age." 

niglit,"  she 

an   invalid, 

;re  she   will 

iH  Hpeaking 
»  procure  so 
sary  prelirai- 
and  address 

to  be  with 

his  hostess, 
r.  "  Lenore 
1  strong  and 
iady,  but  cir- 

to  earn  her 
ifore.     I  was 

imazed  when 
I  Mr.  Garden- 


AH  OSK  THAT  HRUVETtt. 


W 


oil's  work.  It  had  l)een  the  farthest  thing  from 
her  expeotations,  when  she  presented  hei-self  at 
Mi-s.  French's  door  to  inquire  after  her  sick  friend. 

As  Mi-s.  French  had  informed  her  pastor,  this 
girl  was  a  lady,  both  by  birtli  and  education. 
Though  it  would  be  hard  to  conceive  how  she  could 
bo  hoi"self  and  ever  be  less,  however  born,  or  how- 
ever educated. 

Her  mother,  whose  only  child  she  was,  had  lieen 
a  woujan  of  the  world,  whose  god  was  ftvshion. 
A  hello,  a  beauty,  with  every  accessory  of  ease 
and  elegance  at  her  command  ;  the  petted  wife  of 
an  adoring  husljivnd  who  gmtified  her  every  whim, 
Isal)elle  Emei-sou  Erdley  had  yet  oeen  a  cold,  self- 
ish, ambitious  woman,  loving  only  hei-self. 

Into  her  life  of  luxury  came  calamity.  She  was 
widowed  now,  half  sick,  quite  poor.  Suddenly 
everything  had  been  swept  away,  husband,  wealth, 
health.  She  had  become  a  weak,  wretched,  irri- 
table  invalid,  never  happy,  never  even    ccmtent. 

Faded,  worn,  a  shadow  of  her  former  self,  shrink- 
ing from  the  eyes  of  everybody,  ignoring  her 
friends;  ashamed  of  her  poverty,  her  surround- 
ings ;  at  variance  with  her  fellows  and  her  Maker ; 
she  was  determined  to  live  an  isolated  life,  with 
no  companionship  but  her  child's. 

This  child,  whose  birth  she  had  cursed,  was  all 
this  woman  had  left  of  her  past.  Little  as  she 
had  welcomed  its  coming,  when  once  it  was  really 
hers,  it  took  on  value.  She  had  piide  in  its  beauty, 
its  dress,  its   name;  being  hers  it  was  therefore 


!|failfe»^fei\iaW»(»»M»« 


%ilp 


76 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


ati  Emeraon  ;  being  fair  it  was  therefoie  endurable. 
She  named  her  babe  to  suit  herself — small  mat- 
ter to  the  father  whose  joy  was  not  in  its  name 
but  itself.    Lenore  Emeraon  Erdley !    Such  a  big  "^ 
name  for  so  small  a  thing. 

The  father  called  his  treasui-e  Lee,  for  short ;  so 
did  her  school  friends  later.  The  child  liked  it 
better  than  he  full  name.  But  abridgments 
were  vulgar  in  her  mother's  estimation:  lier  ,. 
daughter  was  always  Lenore  to  her,  often  Leu  ore 
Emei-son. 

At  fn-st  Mrs.  Erdley's  friends  attempted  to  , 
break  down  the  reserve  she  had  built  about  her- 
self ;  they  sought  her  with  words  of  sympathy  and 
condolence.  But  she  refused  hei-self  to  their  en- 
entreaty  ;  left  their  ring  unanswered,  and  when 
some,  bolder  than  othei-s,  succeeded  in  reaching 
her  presence,  she  coldly  left  the  room.  Finally 
they  left  her  unmolested,  and,  apparently,  forgot- 
ten.    Her  child  shared  largely  in  her  fate. 

It  was  a  dreary  life  for  a  child  to  live,  but  Le- 
nore lived  it  and  prospered,  in  spite  of  it.  She  soon 
found  that  her  mother  was  jealous  of  the  few 
friends  slie  made  ;  wivs  determined  that  no  school- 
mate, however  humble,  should  visit  her.  She  was  ; 
seldom  allowed  to  visit  any  one.  So  she  became 
slow,  at  last,  in  forming  friendships  she  could  not 
foster.  The  girls  would  only  misunderstand  her, 
she  thought,  if  she  sought  their  favor  and  never 
returned  their  kindnesses.  Only  a  few  of  her 
mother's  old-time  friends  kept  her  iu  remembrance, 


I'o  endurable. 
— small  mat^ 
in  its  name 
Such  a  big^ 

for  short ;  so 
hild  liked  it 
abridgments 
mation :  lior 
often  Leiu>re 

itterapted  to 
.t  about  her- 
ympathy  and 
:  to  their  en- 
d,  and  when 

in  reaching 
am.  Finally 
ently,  forgo t- 

fate. 

live,  but  Le- 
it.  She  soon 
of  the  few 
at  no  school- 
er. She  w.as 
I  she  became 
ihe  could  not 
derstand  her, 
or  and  never 
few  of  her 
remembrance, 


*<«:. 


'm.>- 


AS  ONE  THAT  SERVETU. 


T7 


and  occasionally  she  called  on  one  of  them,  as 
she  had  this  afternoon. 

Many  girls  would  have  come  ■«p  sour  and  mo- 
rose in  so  uncongenial  an  atmosphere.  But  this 
was  far  from  the  case  with  Lenore  Erdley.  Quiet 
she  was,  modest  as  a  violet,  gentle  as  softest  sum- 
mer zephyr,  but  neither  shrinking  nor  bashful. 

In  spite  of  her  life  of  isolation  she  loved  all  hu- 
man-kind, and  was  tenderly  interested  in  the  lives 
lived  sill  about  her.  She  could  not  enjoy  the  com- 
panionship of  her  equals,  neither  could  she  draw 
as  closely  as  she  wished  to  those  who  were  not. 
But  she  had  the  faculty  of  noting  and  sharing  in 
the  pleasure,  as  well  as  sorrow  of  every  sentient 
thing.  Her  humble  home  In-ought  her  in  contact 
with  humble  people,  with  simple  joys  and  griefs. 
And  her  simple  heart  was  interested  in  it  all.  To 
be  sure  her  mother  frowned  on  any  seeming  friend- 
liness with  wiiat  she  termed  '•  such  common  peo- 
ple." But  Lenore  felt  they  were  common  people 
themselves,  and  no  one  could  restrain  a  sympa- 
thetic look,  a  smile  or  nod.  And  all  the  neigh- 
bors came  to  know  and  love  and  feel  a  certain 
pride  in  "  the  little  lady." 

Little  by  little  their  small  patrimony — the  rem- 
nant left  to  them  of  what  was  once  opulence — 
melted  away.  There  Miis  nothing  left  to  them 
but  this  maiden's  hands — those  soft,  white,  little 
hands. 

In  vain  the  mother  argued,  wept,  plef.ded.  A 
daughter  of  here  toil  like  the  vulgar  p«op!e  about 


I 


\\ 


■a  \\ 


m 


HERBERT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


them !  There  was  nothing  else  to  do ;  the  woman's 
unreason  was  madness.  It  was  beg  or  work,  and 
there  could  be  no  choice  between  such  evils. 

It  is  true  Lenore  was  educated,  and  capable  of 
teaching.  It  ia  possible  that  in  time  she  could 
have  obtained  a  position  in  some  school.  But  she 
had  few  friends  and  no  time  to  waste.  Necessity 
was  upon  them  before  she  was  aware,  so  success- 
fully had  her  mother  hidden  their  circumstances.  - 
.  By  chance  she  heard  of  an  ui>town  milliner, 
one  of  whose  girls  was  taken  sick,  and  at  once  she 
applied  to  fill  the  vacancy. 

"  Have  you  ever  done  anything  of  the  kind  ?" 
asked  the  puzzled  Madame,  taking  in  at  a  glance 
the  dainty  apparel  and  ladylike  appearance  of  the 

applicant. 

"  I  trimmed  the  hat  I  wear,"  was  the  modest 

reply. 

"  I  will  try  you,"  was  the  decisive  answer,  and 
Lenore  Erdly  took  her  place  among  American 
working-women. 

She  soon  became  a  favorite  in  the  establishment, 
in  spite  of  her  reserve.  Madame  found  her  taste 
•exquisite,  and  paited  with  her  reluctantly,  when, 
at  the  end  of  several  weeks,  her  old  girl  returned. 

» I  shall  need  you  later,  no  doubt,"  she  said,  as 
she  paid  her.  "I  will  give  you  the  first  vacancy 
should  you  desire  it.  Most  of  my  girls  depend  on 
their  wages  for  their  support,  or  I  would  let  some 
one  go  and  keep  you." 

And   Lenore  smiled  this  side  and  sighed  that 


•.»«^ 


be  woman's 
r  work,  and 
evils. 

[  capable  of 
)  sbe  could 
il.  But  sbo 
Necessity 
,  so  success- 
iinstances. 
vrn  milliner, 
at  once  she 

the  kind  ?" 

at  a  glance 

nance  of  the 

the  modest 

answer,  and 
g   American 

itablishment, 
md  her  taste 
:antly,  when, 
irl  returned. 
"  she  said,  as 
first  vacancy 
•Is  depend  on 
juld  let  some 

I  sighed  that 


Ah  ONE  THAT  aXRVETH. 


79 


Bide  of  tlie  office  door.    Did  Madame  think  that 

^  she  was  working  for  axnusement  or  to  satisfy  some 
fi-eak  ?     Were  not  two  depending  on  her  labors  ? 

That  was  yesterday.  She  had  prayed  much 
since  then,  and  trusted  too,  which  sometimes  is 
better.  Spmehow  amid  these  unpropitious  sur- 
roundings, this  girl  had  found  Christ— or  He  had 

(  found  her — and  she  was  ripening  into  a  peculiarly 
noble   Christian    woman.     With  no   helpers  but 

;,  God  and  His  word,  and  the  occasional  droppings 
of  the  prayer-room  and  sanctuary,  she  was  devel- 

i;  opiug  virtues  that  many  might  envy,  and  holding 
a  closeness  of  fellowship  with  her  Saviour  that 
few  more  favored  attain. 

She  had  wondered  a  little  just  how  her  prayers 
were  to  1x3  answered — wondeied  without  a  shadow 
of  worry,  and  with  a  conscious  thrill  of  gratitude, 
so  sure  and  so  near  was  the  coming  aid.  She 
knew  Mr.  Gardenell  by  reputation,  be  was  the 
beloved  pastor  of  these,  her  friends.  She  had 
heard  him  preach.  The  moment  she  heard  his 
words,  she  wjis  certain  he  needed  her,  and  God 
had  sent  him  there  for  her.  That  assured,  she  did 
not  question  what  next. 

Of  courae  her  mother  object/cd:  "A  menial, 
Lenore,"  she  said,  "a  menial,  a  servant  and  to  a 
nobody,  a  common  preacher  I  you,  an  Emerson, 
with  your  social  birthright  I  " 

The  girl  ordy  smoothed  the  thin  hair  from  the 
wrinkled  brow,  wrinkled,  not  with  age,  but  care — 


80 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


•    ■  /■ 

Rnd  placing  a  kiss  between  the  two  troubled  eyes, 

answered  gently : 

"  Whosoever  of  you  will  be  the  chiefest,  shall 
be  servant  of  all — I  am  among  you  as  he  that 
serveth." 

"Why  will  you  quote  Scripture  to  me,  Lenore, 
when  you  know  it  simply  tortures  me  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  mamma.  It  is  meat  and 
drink  to  me,  and  I  forget.  But  how  can  any  one 
humble  himself,  mother,  since  Christ  has  so 
stooped  ?  " 

"  We  are  in  the  Avorld,  the  world,  Lenore,  and 
are  judged  by  its  standards.  The  Bible  is  obso- 
lete, in  fact  if  not  in  seeming.  Who  lives  by  it  to- 
day? a  few  feeble  folk,  like  you.  The  world,  tho 
cold,  heartless  world,  what  does  it  care  for  its  pre- 
cepts, or  foi'  you  or  me?" 

She  muttered  awhile  longer  to  herself,  and  then 
gaid  impatiently :  "  Get  me  a  lew  grains  of  mor- 
phine, Lenore,  just  a  few,  I  must  forget  my  mis- 
ery. You  always  manage  to  upset  my  poor 
nerves,"  she  went  on  fretfully,  "  and  they  must 
have  some  support." 

"  Not  just  yet,  mamma  dear,"  replied  the  girl 
cheerfully,  though  a  look  of  pain  contrt\cted  her 
brows.  "We  are  going  to  have  supper  now, 
something  nice,  something  you  love,  guess 
what?" 

"  It  isn't   pine-apple,  Lenore,  it  can't  be  that. 

I've  wanted  it  so  much,  I've  really  dreamed  of  it." 

«*  Just  that^  and  it's  a  beauty.    Don't  you  want 


Umimm^'.^mt 


ibled  eyes, 

ifest,  shall 
is  he  that 

le,  Leiiore, 
» 

meat  and 
n  any  one 
»t   has    so 

enove,  and 
le  is  obso- 
es  by  it  to- 
world,  tho 
for  its  pre- 

F,  and  then 
ins  of  mor- 
jt  my  mis- 
my  poor 
they  must 

ed  the  girl 
itrticted  liei' 
pper  now, 
ove,    guess 

I't  be  that, 
imed  of  it." 
t  you  want 


AS  ONE  THAT  SERVETII. 


81 


to  watch  me  s'ice  it,  and  then  here  is  some  of  the 
nicest  sponge-cake  you  ever  tasted," 

"Emma  French  las  not  dared  to  send  mo  of 
her  charity?"  cried  the  ,voman  in  alarm. 

"  No,  ;ndeod,  not  ulie.  I  am  the  culprit,  little 
motner,"  bustling  around  and  talking  cheerily 
while  the  table  wisi  being  laid  and  drawn  to  the 
woman's  side.  A:1  this  in  the  hope  of  helping 
her  forget  her  misery,  and  tlie  remedy  for  which 
of  late  she  called  inctssantly. 

The  use  of  morphine  was  no  new  thing  to  Mi-s. 
Erdley.  To  her  daughter's  knowledge  she  had 
used  it  more  or  less  ever  since  her  husband's 
death.  While  under  its  influence  was  tlio  only 
time  she  was  ever  bright  or  happy,  and  it  was  only 
then  that  she  seemed  interested  in  othens.  Wlieu 
quite  a  child  Lenore  had  been  sent  for  it,  though 
always  with  a  note  or  prescription.  She  was  still 
expected  to  furnish  it,  only  in  increasing  quanti- 
ties, quantities  that  of  late  aroused  her  gravest 
fears. 

This  girl's  recollections  of  the  past  were  very 
vivid.  Young  as  she  was  when  her  faihoi  died, 
she  cherished  his  memory  with  tender  adoration. 
Children  are  natural  character-readers.  She  often 
recalled  her  fathsr's  grave,  not  to  say  giieved, 
face  when  sent  from  his  wife's  side,  with  some 
stinging  remark.  The  child  realized  that  th^ 
affection  the  man  lavished  so  unstintedly  wa^ 
accepted  as  her  mother's  prerogative,  not  her 
delight.    Yet  it  was  never  wanting. 


witnu^'rm'ss 


^E**-f«*-K 


82 


HERBERT  QARDENELL,  JV 


He  was  some  years  older  than  liia  wife,  and 
of  a  gentle,  retiring  disposition.  There  were  days 
when  he  would  come  to  tbt?  nui-sery  and  lifting 
his  little  one  to  his  bosom  walk  the  floor  with  her 
folded  close.  And  Lenore  knew  even  then,  in  a 
dim,  childish  fashion,  that  her  mother's  unkind- 
ness  had  driven  him  from  her  side,  to  seek  in  his 
child  the  satisfaction  h<.  heart  craved. 

His  death  had  been  very  sudden.  He  had  been 
poorly  for  some  days,  but  not  seriously  so.  One 
day  he  remained  in  bed,  and  his  daughter  would 
never  forget  the  gray  look  on  the  quiet  face  when 
she  went  to  kiss  him  good-night. 

She  went  immediately  to  her  mother  and 
begged  her  to  go  to  papa,  "  he  looks  so  dread- 
fully," she  pleaded. 

"  You  will  take  yourself  off  to  nurse,  Lenoro,  I 
will  attend  to  your  fatlier  at  my  pleasure,"  was 
the  haughty  reply. 

Ah  me,  what  a  change  between  the  speaker 
then  and  now !  The  next  morning  when  the 
child  awoke  it  was  to  learn  her  father  was  dead. 

Terrible  were  the  days  that  followed.  Mi-s. 
Eidley's  agony  was  something  ur.  tpeakable.  She 
shut  herself  into  her  room,  *^vsn  her  little  daugh- 
ter only  seeing  her  occasionally.  But  those  who 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  face  were  filled  with  con- 
sternation. Lenore  clung  to  her,  kissing  her 
hands  and  her  lips,  begging  her  not  to  die  too,  for 
the  pale,  haggard  face  was  suggestive  of  nothing 
but  death. 


f   1 


wife,  and 
were  days 
tad  lifting 
t  with  her 
then, in  a 
8  unkind- 
eek  in  his 

)  had  been 

80.     One 

iter  would 

face  when 

)ther    and 
so  dread- 

,  Lenoro,  I 
jure,"  was 

le  speaker 
when  the 
'as  dead. 
ved.  Mrs. 
able.  She 
tie  daugh- 
those  who 
i  with  con- 
iasing  her 
die  too,  for 
of  nothing 


AS  ONE  THAT  SERVETIL  M 

People  wondered.  They  had  not  supposed  this 
woniaii  so  devoted  to  her  liusband.  This  proud, 
dis(hunful,  selfish  votary  of  fiushion  hencefoith 
retirfid  from  the  world  and  refused  to  be  com- 
forted. 

Later  it  was  found  her  husband  had  died  bank- 
rupt. Then  she  sold  her  fine  residence  and  its 
elegant  furnishings,  and  with  a  small  annuity, 
hers  before  marriage,  as  her  only  support,  she 
moved  into  a  few  rooms,  and  died  to  the  world 
that  had  known  her. 

As  Lenore  grew  to  young  womanhood  she  won- 
dered much  on  that  clouded  past.  What  caused 
her  father's  death?  Wi\s  it  a  broken  heart? 
Had  her  mother  known  of  his  liabilities,  his  com- 
ing failure  ?  had  she  upbraided  him  for  his  lack 
of  success  and  killed  him  with  her  unkiindness? 
That  patient,  deathly  face,  and  her  s'.otlar's 
haughty  one,  the  night  before  he  died,  ^  ,  .  ted 
her.  And  something  in  the  manner  of  her 
mother  ofttimes,  an  uneasiness,  a  dread,  an  almost 
terror,  an  evident  remorse,  wakened  in  her  dtvugh- 
ter's  bosom  fears  she  dared  neither  cherish  nor 
name.  Of  one  thing  she  was  certain,  something 
beside  pride  had  made  her  mother  a  recluse. 

But"  no  word  of  those  other  days  was  ever 
spoken  by  either  woman.  Patiently,  tenderly, 
the  daughter  bore  with  this  wreck  of  life,  deny- 
ing her  no  good  thing  she  could  obtain,  reluct- 
antly administering  that  without  which  the  exile 


84 


UKliBKRT  OAliDENKLL,  JR. 


felt  she  could  not  live,  and  with  which  life  was 
a  coiistiiiit  (Iciith. 

For  Leiioie  nover  got  over  the  honor  it  gave 
her  to  see  l»er  mother  under  the  power  of  tliis 
drug.  The  long  Htupor,  the  ghiistly  fivce,  the  fol- 
lowing exultancy  and  pliantsisy  of  joy  were  to  her 
alike  hideous. 

That  it  was  a  deadly  poison  r  t  only  to  her 
mother's  bidy  and  mind,  but  to  her  soul,  thia 
youi.'g  girl  knew.  She  had  sought  most  despep* 
ately  in  every  way  to  bieak  up  the  habit.  She 
had  evf;;i  consulted  a  physician.  In  vain.  The 
woman  clung  to  this  idol  with  the  tenacity  of 
despair ;  she  would  not  be  robbed  of  her  only 
solace.  She  was  alike  deaf  to  appeal  and  reason, 
and  Lenore  fell  back  on  her  only  hope — pmyer— 
and  waited. 


-v; 


\.^ 


WITH  THE  DOCTORS. 


w 


''-■'ilJ-A;^ 


>/        CHAPTER  Vm. 

WITH  THE  DOCTORS.        i  '  ,■ 

9 

"  li'H  her  sport  and  pleasure  to  flout  me  1 
-v'..  To  spurn,  and  scorn,  and  scout  mo  I 

But  all  1  I've  a  notion  it's  naught  but  play, 
it  And  that,  say  what  she  will,  and  feign  wlia'  she  may, 

■'  She  can't  well  >'-  witiiout  me."  ' 

—Thomas  Westwood. 

"How  is  Miss  Muffet  this  morning?" 

"  Pretty  sleepy,  1  thank  you." 

"  Does  she  need  any  assistance,  such  as  I  can 
offer?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  are  an  excellent  coffee  and  muffin 
maker." 

"  Tiy  me  and  see." 

"  Did  you  know  I  had  a  helper  coming,  Stan- 
ton? Miss  Lenore  Erdley.  Papa  says  she  is  a 
lady  in  reduced  circumstances.  Are  we  not 
fortunate  ?  " 

"Very.  Only  I  feel  unappreciated.  My  valu- 
able services  will  no  longer  be  needed  after  this 
new-comer  appears." 

"  Don't  air  your  ignorance,  you  foolish  boy. 
You  will  be  just  as  much  in  demand." 

"  Ah,  indeed !  very  glad  to  hear  it." 


\ 


UEHbEHT  UAHDENELL,  JR. 


"  Listen  !  I  slutll  not  want  MLss  Erdley  to  know 

^•:  an  ignominuH  I  iim.  You  are  to  fuiniHh 
BCliedulcs  for  dinners,  and  advice  as  to  tlie  cook- 
ing of  various  dishes,  or  any  other  inforuuition  she 
may  require  of  ine." 

"Bunch  of  deceit!  Am  I  expected  to  nhold 
yoii  in  such  iniquity?  Kemen)l)er  the  dignity  of 
my  position,  I  am  a  minister.  Ah,  theio  goes  the 
bell.  Answer  it,  please,  Ollie,  as  the  call-hoy, 
footman,  or  whatever  you  please  to  call  him,  haa 
his  big  apron  on,  and  is  acting  as  cook." 

It  was  Miss  Erdley,  Olive  was  charmed  at  the 
first  glance,  and  so  was  Stanton,  though  he  felt 
rather  in  the  dark  as  to  this  stranger's  opinion  of 
a  young  gentleman  with  an  apron  strung  about 
his  neck  like  a  bib,  both  sleeve:)  roiled  u^t,  and 
both  hands  white  with  flour. 

It  was  a  vision  of  life  such  as  Miss  Erdley  had 
never  even  conceived.  But  something  in  her  had 
affinity  to  the  same,  and  they  were  cordial  friends 
and  co-workera  immediately. 

It  was  the  last  morning  Stanto.  was  seen  in  the 
kitchen  for  some  time.  He  left  the  girls  with  the 
dishes  after  prayers  and  disappeared,  neither  did 
he  answer  tVio  summons  to  lunch.  Olive,  discon- 
solately, plied  her  father  with  so  many  questions 
that  he  wa,s  forced  to  tell  her  so  nuicli  at  least: 
"  The  doctoi-s  have  taken  Stanton  into  their 
councils." 

" Stanton  1  why  papa  what  can  he  do?" 

"That  remains   to   be    seen,"    answered  papa 


UWii. 


y  to  know 
()  furniHh 
llie  cook- 
iUition  she 

to  »)hold 
Jignity  of 
I  goes  tlie 
ciiU-boy, 
[  liim,  has 

led  at  the 
h  )ie  ftilt 
ipinioa  of 
iig  about 
[  u^,  uud 

idley  liad 
n  her  had 
ul  friends 

;en  in  the 
I  with  the 
jither  did 
e,  dipcon- 
questions 
at  least : 
nto    their 


ired  papa 


^^y 


;r,.,s; 


WITH  THE  DOCTOHS. 


87 


quietly,  but  something  in  hia  heart  was  singing  just 
the  same,  for  Dr.  Oermaine  had  wrung  his  hand  as 
he  left  the  iiouse,  whispering: 

"The  beginning  argucH  well,  (iardcnell.  The 
countenance  and  pulse  have  both  improved  under 
the  operation.  I've  taken  Cartwright  to  Herbert's 
room.  He  needs  to  be  quiet  for  a  while,  he'll  be 
all  right  in  an  hour  or  two." 

At  the  end  of  one  hour  Mr.  Gardenell  opened 
his  son's  chamber  door  and  looked  at  the  youth,  as 
dear  as  a  son,  resting  upon  the  bed. 

"How  do  you  feel,  Stanton?"  • 

"  Only  a  little  giddy.  I'm  not  used  to  it  yet, 
I'll  be  all  right  presently,  and  it's  going  to  1x3  a  suc- 
cess. I  did  not  lose  consciousness  so  far  but  that  I 
heard  the  Professor's  Hhank  God'  and  Dr.  Ford's 
low:  'The  circulation  seems  undisturbed  yet»  the 
pulse  improves.'" 

At  the  late  dinner-hour  Stanton  appeared.  He 
seemed  much  himself.  A  trifle  paler,  perhaps,  but 
not  enough  so  to  attract  attention  or  to  escape  a 
"  good  scolding  "  as  Olive  called  her  after  dinner 
brush  with  the  young  man. 

"  Stanton  Cartwright,  I  thought  I  could  depend 
upon  you." 

"  That's  phat  I  thought  mesilf,  mum,"  with  ut- 
most gravity  and  inimitable  brogue.      ?i      ,-^  ;y  .  , 

"Are  you  not  my  servant?"  '  .." 

"  Till  death  and  afther,  sure." 

"  Behave  yourself  and  be  sensible.  I  want  an 
account  of  how  you  have  spent  this  day." 


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WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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88 


lIEliBERT  GAUDENELL,  JR. 


The  young  gentleman  lengthened  his  face  comi- 
cally, drew  lumself  to  his  full  height,  and  put  on  a 
serious,  thoughtful  air. 

"Let  me  see.  I  rose  sometime  after  sunrioe; 
bathed  and  dressed  myself;  descended  to  the 
kitchen  and  made  coffee  and  muffins  for  breakfast ; 
shook  hands    with   Miss   Erdley;    ate   more    or 

less " 

"  Stanton  Cartwright,  why  will  you  be  so  absurd? 
Do  I  not  know  all  that?" 

"  It's  a  part  of  my  day,"  answered  the  gentle- 
man meekly. 

"  A  very  small  part,"  severely.  "  Why  have  I 
misyed  you  ever  since  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Because  Iwas  not  here." 

She  stamped  her  little  foot  impatiently.  "  Why 
were  you  not  here  ?  " 

"  Important  business,  Miss  Gardenell." 

"  Indeed  !  Reports  differ.  Papa  said  you  were 
with  the  doctoi-s." 

"  Which  is  also  true." 

"What  did  they  do?  why  should  they  need 
you?  Is  mamma  much  better?  Papa  appeara  so 
relieved  yet  says  '  wait,  we  must  have  patience,'  to 
all  my  questioning.  Do  you  really  believe  she 
will  recover,  Stanton?" 

"  I  do  indeed,  ray  heart  is  full  of  hope,  and  you 
must  be  as  happy  and  glad  as  you  can  be,  Olive, 
and  thank  '  Our  Fatliei-. ' " 

Only  one  situated  as  was  Mr.  Gardenell  can 
estimate  the   anxiety  with  which  he   waited  the 


face  conii- 
d  put  on  a 

31'  sunriae; 

led  to  the 

breakfast ; 

more    or 

so  absurd? 

the  gentle- 

'^hy  have  I 

y.     "Why 

I." 

iyou  were 


they  need 

appeal's  so 

satience,'  to 

believe  she 

pe,  and  you 

n  be,  Olive, 

irdenell  can 
waited  the 


«9M! 


'fV'^f^'^fv''T'?'*     .''/^^"'"^' 


iipil.Pi.i'1 


WITH  THE  DOCTORS. 


89 


doctors'  verdict  the  night  after  the  operation  liad 
taken  phice.  Only  one  long  divided  between  hope 
and  fear  can  metvsuro  his  relief  when  that  verdict 
was  favorable. 

Dr.  Gerraaine  visited  the  patient  several  times 
during  the  day  and  again  last  thing  at  night.  "It 
works  like  a  charm,"  he  said,  looking  the  satisfac- 
tion that  filled  his  breast.  "  If  another  injection 
proves  as  successful,  I  think  I  can  predict  certain 
recovery.  Gardenell,  under  God,  you  owe  a  good 
deal  to  young  Cartwright." 

"  I  do,  indeed,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  has  been 
for  years  like  one  of  my  family,  henceforth  he  is  a 
beloved  son." 

"  He  expects  his  reward,"  smiling. 

"  And  would  do  as  he  has  if  he  did  not.  He 
is  unwilling  Olive  should  learn  his  part  in  her 
mother's  recovery  lest  it  affect  her  decision." 

"  Nonsense  I  that  was  a  foregone  conclusion  long 
since,  or  my  eyes  deceive  me.  He  is  a  grand  fel- 
low. I  can't  help  feeling  in  this  case  that  the 
equableness  of  the  man's  temper,  his  quiet  hope- 
fulness, were  somehow  communicated  to  the  pa- 
tient and  helped  produce  such  marked  results. 
Olive  ought  to  congratulate  herself.  Good-night." 
"  Good-night." 

"  Go  to  bed  and  sleep  for  once,"  added  the  doctor, 
pushing  his  head  in  at  the  door  for  another  word. 
"You  will  need  to  husband  your  strength  until 
Yensie  begins  to  recover.  Now  the  nuree  serves  as 
well  as  you  and  better.     Once  more  good-night." 


'** 


•'1 


-  J-:  siy5ShS*af>?  Ai>J*='-^ 


lUJk 


90 


HERliEUr  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


The  next  day  was  bright  and  clear,  a  day  to 
drive  away  fogs  of  whatever  sort.  Olive's  voice, 
so  long  silent,  was  the  fii-st  thing  that  greeted  her 
lover's  ears  as  he  wended  his  way  kitchenward. 
Lenore  was  before  him,  his  services  unneeded. 

"Isn't  it  too  beautiful  for  anything," said  Olive, 
greeting  him  with  a  shining  face.  "I  even  feel 
like  forgiving  you  this  morning  and  offering  you 
the  privilege  of  a  walk.  It  is  too  pleasant  to  stay 
at  home  when  one  can  frame  an  excuse  for  a  tramp. 
The  spring  always  gets  inside  of  me." 

"  Me  too,"  answered  Stanton.  "  I  wish  I  could 
accompany  you,  Ollie.  I  will  to-morrow,  if  you 
will  accept  my  excuses  for  to-day." 

Her  face  fell.  "  Another  engagement,  I  svi\)- 
pose,"  she  said  pettishly. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  is,  you  forget  the  doctora 
will  be  here  to-day." 

"  And  you  forget  they  will  be  here  to-morrow." 

"  But  I  make  a  previous  engagement  with  you 
now.  Puss,  just  as  I  made  one  yesterday  with  them. 
I  shall  keep  them  both." 

She  felt  perverse.  "  I  make  no  promises,"  she 
said,  turning  to  the  window,  "  I  might  not  keep 
them.  Neither  will  I  give  up  a  pleasure  at  hand 
for  one  that  may  never  come." 

"  I  wouldn't,"  he  answered  imperturbably,  her 
small  ire  rather  amusing  him.  "Go  to-day  by  all 
means,  you  need  the  change,  the  air.  I  will  see 
about  to-morrow." 


'   * 


fcV,  a  day  to 
iive'a  voice, 
greeted  her 
itclienward. 
needed. 
'  said  Olive, 
I  even  feel 
offering  you 
isaiit  to  stay 
for  a  tramp. 

vish  I  could 
rrow,  if  you 

nent,  I  su^)- 

tlie  doctora 

to-morrow." 
it  with  you 
Y  with  them. 

jmises,"  she 
ht  not  keep 
ure  at  hand 

urbably,  her 

;o-day  by  all 

I  will  see 


WITH  THE  DOCTORS. 


91 


"You  have  great  assurance,  Mr.  Cartwright, 
your  abilities  in  some  directions  are  astonishing." 

"Aren't  they,  though?"  laughing,  "Honor 
bright,  OUie,  did  you  ever  see  a  fellow  just  like 
me?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  wish  to  see  one." 

"  Just  right,"  complacently.  "  Another  would 
bo  one  too  many.  I  am  resigned  to  being  the  one 
and  only  g',ntleman  of  the  sort  of  your  acquaint- 
ance. I  think  I  am  rather  fine  looking,  don't 
you?" 

The  tone  of  his  voice,  the  way  in  which  he 
surveyed  himself  in  the  mirror  opposite  were 
irresistible.  Olive  laughed,  he  had  gained  his 
point. 

"I  wish  you  would  be  sensible  occasionally, 
Stanton  Cartwright,"  she  said.  "  And  I  trust 
you  do  not  think  I  mistake  your  antics  for  wit." 

"  What  is  the  matter  hei-e,  this  morning  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Gardenell,  appearing  at  the  door. 
"  One  would  fancy  Raymond  was  at  home  and 
receiving  one  of  his  periodical  lectures." 
*  "  If  you  please,  sir,  it's  only  me,  sir,  and  not 
Raymond,"  answered  Stanton  meekly.  And  the 
gentleman  laughingly  lod  the  young  man  to  his 
seat  at  table,  tendering  him  his  sympathy. 

"  You  must  neither  aid  nor  abet  him,  papa,"  said 
Olive,  "or  I  shall  count  it  treason.  He  utterly 
refuses  to  accompany  me  on  a  tramp  this  morning, 
though  I  have  condescended  to  invite  him." 

"  I  refused  with  thanks,"  said  Stanton. 


J 
1 


"^'JLJ^t 


'lji::^h,^. 


.A-  '^•'^•A^k:--0 


<iC«i 


98 


nERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


"  Even  thanks  are  poor  sauce  to  a  disappoint- 
ment," answered  the  girl  gayly,  restored  to  her 
usual  humor.  "  Pai)a  knows  I  wa«  never  conten'; 
to  take  anything  but  the  best." 

"  Hear,  hear  1 "  applauded  the  youth.  "  I  leave 
it  to  the  judgment  of  this  honorable  company  if 
two  tramps  are  not  better  than  one  tramp." 

"That's  according  to  the  character  of  the 
tramps,"  interposed  the  elder  gentleman  humor- 
ously. "We've  had  tramps  call  here  whom  we 
would  much  prefer  should  not  be  duplicated." 

Olive  clapped  her  hands.  "Caught  in  your 
own   trap,  sir  fox ! "   she   cried.     "  And   perhaps 

papa  refers  to  a  certain  tramp " 

"  Who  already  this  morning  has  repudiated  all 
desire  for  the  distinction  pf  a  double  in  your 
estimation,  as  you  can  bear  witness,  fair  lady," 
retorted  Stanton  with  a  glance  that  sent  Olive's 
eyes  to  her  plate,  while  a  flush  dyed  her  cheeks. 
And  that  provoking  young  man  looked  as  if  he 
enjoyed  her  confusion. 

"  I  hope  you  wil^ttike  a  walk  tliis  morning, 
Olive,"  said  her  fat^later.  "  Th*  very  taste  of 
this  air  is  refreshing.  Call  on  Mary  Dunbar  or 
Alice  Whipple  or  some  of  your  friends.  You've 
been  housed  so  long  they  will  hardly  know  you. 
Don't  hurry  back.  Miss  Erdley  can  get  our  lunch 
without  your  help  and  you  can  lunch  down  street. 
We  shall  not  want  to  see  your  face  before  dinner- 
hour." 

"And  be  all  day  away  from  the  only  member 


in*    lljMWlllL'HUIIJlS'WIit''' 


disappoint- 
ved  to  her 
i'er  content, 

"  I  leave 
company  if 
np." 

«r  of  the 
lan  humor- 
whora  we 
cated." 
it  in  your 
ud   perhaps 

jUdiuted  all 
le  in  your 
fair  lady," 
sent  Olive's 
her  cheeks. 
:ed  as  if  he 

is  morning, 
'ery  taste  of 
r  Dunbar  or 
ds.  You've 
Y  know  you. 
it  our  lunch 
down  street, 
jfore  dinner- 

>nly  member 


-1 


mTH  THE  DOCTORS. 


93 


of  my  family  I  have  left  ?  O  you  designing  papa, 
I  believe  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me,"  cried  Olive, 
unconsciously  coming  nearer  the  truth  thiin  she 
dreamed.  For,  aside  from  Mr.  Gardenell's  desire 
to  see  his  daughter  cheered  and  refreshed,  he  felt 
it  best  she  should  be  out  of  the  house  until  after 
this  second  and  last  operation  was  over.  And 
Mr.  Cartwright  endoreed  his  policy. 

There  was  nothing  very  dangerous  in  this  shar- 
ing his  blood  with  another;  and  Stanton  Cart- 
wright  had  no  exalted  ideas  of  his  heroism  or 
devotion.  It  was  to  him  simply  a  matter  of  duty, 
over  which  he  had  not  a  second's  hesitation  when 
once  he  found  he  was  in  a  condition  to  render  the 
Bervioe.  It  was  as  much  a  shrinking  from  Olive's 
gratitude  and  reverence  as  any  fear  that  she 
would  consider  it  a  reason  for  regarding  him  with 
special  favor  that  led  him  to  hide  from  her  the 
facta.  He  hoped  she  regarded  him  with  special 
favor  without  any  such  reason. 

He  was  a  noble,  manly  fellow,  used  to  taking 
life  in  a  very  real  and  serious  fashion,  but  with 
a  vein  of  humor  and  a  natural  cheerfulness  that 
would  always  bring  the  best  side  of  a  thing  upper- 
most ;  and  tend  to  lighten  deprivation  and  hard- 
ship. 

Reared  in  poverty,  strong  and  brave  by  n.iture, 
he  courted  rather  than  feared  sacrifice  and  danger. 
The  ambition  of  his  life  was  to  preach  Christ  in 
the  regions  beyond,  where  the  evangel  of  the 
Kingdom  had  not  yet  penetrated.    To  this  he  had 


't:i/^^X'b^ 


m 


94 


IIEIiBERT  GARDENEI^L,  JR. 


unreservedly  dedicated  his  youth  and  strength, 
llext  to  Ills  devotion  to  his  Master  and  liis  work 
\\as  the  mighty  love  he  possessed  for  Olive  Gar- 
d^nell.  Her  imago  had  held  his  deepest  heart 
riiiice  his  early  college  days,  and  lie  was  sure  he 
could  never  call  any  other  woman,  wife. 

He  had  never  said  this  to  her.  She  always 
seemed  shy  of  any  special  approach.  They  had 
been  much  together ;  not  only  in  the  past  when 
he  and  Herbert  were  chums,  and  he  spent  weeks 
of  his  vacation  at  New  York  orBloomingdale,  but 
also  in  these  later  years  since  Raymond  Gardenell 
had  married  his  sister  and  Stanton  was  regarded 
very  much  like  a  member  of  the  family. 

It  was  hard  to  divine  Olive's  feeling  towards 
him.  She  treated  him  much  as  she  did  Herbert, 
her  favorite  brother.  When  they  were  at  college 
together  she  divided  her  notes  pretty  evenly  be- 
tween them ;  and  now  that  they  had  graduated 
still  added  postscripts  to  her  brother's  letters  and 
even  went  so  far  on  occasions  as  to  honor  this 
friend  with  epistles  whose  size  was  one  of  Ray- 
mond's standing  jokes. 

That  she  had  more  than  a  sister's  regard  for 
him,  or  that  he  could  teach  her  to  have,  he  never 
seriously  doubted.  She  was  such  a  ahild  yet  in 
her  own  estimation  and  that  of  her  friends ;  was 
80  entrenched  in  the  love  of  her  own,  so  petted 
and  adored  by  brothers  and  parents,  that  it  was 
hard  for  him  to  talk  to  her  of  love,  or  seek  to  lead 
her  into  new  paths. 


.^L. 


!?SfS 


(1  strength. 
I  liis  work 
Olive  Giir- 
3pest  heart 
ii3  sure  he 

5he  alw.iys 
They  had 
past  when 
pent  weeks 
ngdale,  but 
i  Gardenell 
as  regarded 

ng  towards 
id  Herbert, 
5  at  college 
'  evenly  be- 
graduated 
letters  and 
honor  this 
)ne  of  Ray- 
regard  for 
3,  he  never 
hild  yet  in 
•lends ;  was 
»,  so  petted 
;hat  it  was 
teek  to  lead 


WITU  THE  DOCTORS. 


96 


When  he  made  the  slightest  approach  to  such 
subjects  she  was  either  unconscious  or  coy  ;  misun- 
derstanding all  he  said,  either  really  or  in  seeming, 
or  shrinking  from  liitn  as  if  ho  had  made  her  afraid.' 
On  the  other  hand,  as  a  friend,  especially  as  Her- 
bert's chosen  companion,  she  was  open  to  all  his  ad- 
vances, ready  to  bestow  on  him  many  little  privi- 
leges, and  show  him  many  favors.  Yet,  it  must  be 
confessed,  never  so  many  as  since  bin  coming  at 
this  opportune  time  to  their  encouragement  and 
succor. 

He  had  come  to  her  at  this  time  on  purpose  to 
open  his  heart :  to  learn  the  extent  of  her  feeling's 
towards  him.  He  must  know  whether,  in  the  near 
future,  when  he  expected  to  sail  away  to  some  far- 
off  land,  he  could  take  with  him  the  choice  of  his 
heart.  He  would  assure  himself  to-morrow,  so  he 
said  to  himself,  as  he  watched  the  maiden  turn  up 
the  street  that  spring  morning. 

Aside  from  the  faintness  or  giddiness,  which 
soon  passed  away,  the  only  inconvenience  Stanton 
felt  from  the  operation  of  the  day  before  was  a 
soreness  of  the  arm,  where  the  radial  artery  had 
been  isolated.  It  felt  stiff  and  tender,  and  hn 
found  himself  almost  unconsciously  favoring  it, 
shrinking  from  the  near  contact  of  anything. 

To-day  there  was  to  be  another  incision  and  a 
largfer  quantity  of  blood  conveyed  to  the  patient's 
body.  Yesterday  the  amount  had  not  exceeded 
twelve  ounces,  to-day  it  was  to  be  at  least  eighteen. 
So  slowly  and  equably  had  the  fluid  been  trans- 


UEHDEin  GARUKNELL, ./«. 

foneil  to  tlio  litiiut  of  tho  sinking  woiniin,  that  no 
(lisiistioiis  disturlMnco  of  tlio  circuliitiou  had  ii'v 
companiiMl  it ;  and  it  was  hoi^d  the  added  HUpi)ly 
would  put  hm-  not  only  Ixijond  present  danger, 
but  well  up  tho  Hcalo  of  j)robal)lo  recovery.  You 
can  SCO  whv  both  Mr.  (rardenell  and  Stanton  Cart- 
wright  niiglit  wish  Olive  out  of  the  house  until 
this  last  expiniment  was  over. 

But  Olive  did  not  stay  away  long.  She  found 
only  one  of  the  fricnids  she  called  on  at  home,  and, 
much  as  she  enjoyed  tho  air  and  motion,  was  yet 
conscious  of  a  certain  uneasiness,  as  if  she  was 
nefTlei'ting  duty.  After  a  short  ramble  she  turned 
homewiird  and  reached  the  front  door  to  find  her 
latch-key  missing.  Stanton  had  forgotten  to  re- 
turn it. 

She  would  not  ring  and  disturb  Lenore  at  her 
work.  She  went  around  to  the  side  door  and  en- 
tered unperceivcd.  As  she  went  out  to  leave  her 
cloak  and  hat,  a  letter  on  the  hall  table  met  her 
eyes.  It  was  for  l:er  and  in  Herbert's  handwrit- 
ing ;  he  must  be  better.  She  would  take  it  right 
to  his  room,  among  his  Iwoks  nnd  lielongings,  and 
open  it  there.  No  one  knew  she  had  come  ;  they 
could  eat  lunch  without  her.  She  wouhl  cuddle 
down  on  Hervie's  couch,  and  read  it  and  cry  over 
it  if  she  pleased,  undisturbed  by  any  one. 

She  went  up  noiselessly  over  the  stairs.  Papa 
and  the  nurse  would  be  engaged  at  this  hour. 
The  doctors  were  probably  in  her  mother's  room. 
She  turned  into  the  side  corridor  and  paused.     An 


f  ■■  I  ip,";  I  ',1.1 


-«-T^FE.|Ji  l»i  -^;  T"'"^^^ 


.^,— i-.M-^'fiiry^^  7 


■•T, 


»r/r/;  r//;?  doctors. 


97 


m,  that  no 
oil  hiul  1)'!- 
,dod  811^1)1/ 
jnt  drtiigcr, 
very.  You 
Hilton  Ciirt- 
iuu8e  until 

She  found 
home,  iind, 
on,  was  y«t 
if  she  was 
I  she  tiiiiuid 
to  find  her 
itteii  to   10- 

nore  at  her 
oor  and  on- 
to leave  hor 
bio  met  lier 
8  handwrit- 
iiko  it  liglit 
ingings,  and 
come  ;  thoy 
iu\(\  cuddle 
,nd  cry  over 
ne. 

tairs.  Papa 
t  this  hour, 
ther's  room. 
jaused.     An 


uiit'XiKM'tcd  iiifflit  fjreeted  her  eyes.  Ilor  father 
8Ui)i)ortiiig  Stanton  Cartwright,  whose  face  ai.d 
lips  wore  hioodless,  hia  eyes  half-clo.stid— supimrt- 
ing  anil  h'liding  him  towards  Hoil)ort's  room. 

Slie  did  not  move,  hardly  hreatl-ed,  until  tin 
d.ior  closed  after  them.  Then  Hho  ran  swiftly  to 
her  own  chamher,  shut  and  locked  the  door,  and 
flung  liersolf  on  the  lx;d. 

What  did  it  mean?  What  had  happened? 
Ought  she  to  have  asked?  Ought  she  to  have 
shown  hoi-self,  offered  hor  assistance?  Impulsive 
as  she  was  hy  nature,  she  knew  not  what  had 
withheld  hor  from  rushing  forward,  hogging  to 
know  the  worst,  sohhing  out  hor  terror  and  sur- 
prise. Wliat  really  detained  her  was  the  hardly 
acknowledged  realization  that  they  would  not 
wish  her  to  know;  that  Stanton  Cartwright  and 
licr  father  were  concealing  something  from  her. 
She  lay  some  minutes,  filled  with  contending  emo- 
tions, for  the  time  forgetful  of  the  letter  in  her 
liand. 

"  Dear  old  Ilerhert !  "  she  sohhed  at  last,  "  you 
always  trusted  me.  If  I  could  only  have  you  I 
would  be  content."  Then  she  opened  her  precious 
epistle,  and  read : 

"  My  Ai'PLE-BLosi^oM : 

How  I  miss  you  !  Tlie  perfume  coming  into  my 
windows  this  minute  reminds  me  of  you  t  as  also 
the  pink  and  white  beauty,  recently  brought  from 
the  orchard,  and  looking  at  me  from  the  vase  on 

7 


■■ ;  ■■'  » *■  yjwf 


I    iiiiipi  wifnysi^fcl 


U8 


lIKHttERT  GAIWKSELL,  J II. 


my  tal)l«.     I  iim  hungry  for  ii  Higlit  of  your  pre- 
ciouH  face. 

You  need  not  worry  ft  bit  over  mc,  or  let  Riijy- 
body  else  do  so.  I  ivni  not  very  Hi«k,  or  I  conld 
not  write,  iiiid  lun  iniiirovinij,'  fast,  as  Aunt  .lesMio 
would  tell  you  were  hIio  writing.  You  can't  im- 
aj,Miio  tho  kindtiesH  of  n»y  nui-ses.  Kven  you  and 
dear  inaniina  eould  not  wait  upon  nie  i\w*.'  a«  idu- 
ously  aiul  tenderly. 

"  i  suppose  Stanton  is  with  you  by  this  time.  I 
can't  help  envying  you  all  A  letter  of  his  litis 
been  forwarded  to  me  fiom  my  last  stopping  plae.>, 
saying  he  «'xpc.eted  to  start  for  New  York  in  another 
week.'  lie  ought  (tertainly  to  Ihj  there.  Be  good  to 
him  for  my  sake,  blessed  old  fellow  1 " 

Tell  liiiii  to  take  my  ])lace,  as  fully  as  possible, 
and  give  liim  a  big  hug  for  me.  Don't  leave  papa 
out.  or  precious  mamma. 

OUie,  I  begin  to  think  mamma  must  be  very  ill, 
since  she  hiw  not  written  mo  one  little  word. 
Even  tho  languor  she  suftered  so  much  from  last 
year  eould  not  have  prevented  that. 

"  But  don't  tell  her  I  said  so  for  the  world  ; 
but,  like  tho  dearest  little  si.ster  man  ever  had, 
which  you  are,  wiito  nie  a  truthful  statement  of 
her  condition.  Aunt  Jessie  has  looked  so  grave 
at  every  mentif)n  of  her  name,  spite  of  attempted 
cheerfulness,  that  I  a»n  sure  there  is  something 
lield  back.  It  will  not  harm  nic  to  know  the 
worst.  I  can  trust  (}od,  and  I  am  sure  He  can 
do  as  much  without  me  as  if  I  were  by  her  side. 
If  I  had  not  been  able  to  trust  Him,  how 
wretched  my  fears  would  have  made  me. 

"  I  have  not  questioned  Auntie  or  Fred.  It 
would  only  grieve  them  unnecessarily,  sinee  they 
deem  it  a  part  of  their  duty  to  keep  me  in  igno- 
rance.    But  my  Olive  knows  me  better.     We  bo- 


<■"«»  .yvinui.iai.  m;^.  n^mff 


WITH  TlIK  DOCTORS. 


M 


of  your  pre- 

,  or  li't  niiy- 
:,  or  I  could 
Aunt  Je.HHio 
on  can't  iin- 
IvL'ii  you  and 
nu)'*/  lis  idu- 

UiiH  time.  I 
r  of  IiIh  lias 
Dpliinjj  place, 
Ilk  in  anotlier 
.    Be  good  to 

y  as  possible, 
I't  leave  papa 

st  Ih?  very  ill, 

little    word. 

uch  from  last 

r  tlie  uorld  ; 

lan  ever  liad, 
stateniciit  of 

ikcd  so  grave 
of  attempted 
is  sometliing 
to  know  tlie 
sure  lie  can 

3  by  lier  side. 

4t    Him,   bow 
me. 
or  Fred.     It 

ily,  since  tbey 

p  me  in  igno- 

3tt€r.    We  be- 


lieve in  knowing  tbo  woi-st  and  fearing  notbing, 
Bweeibea-t,  since  (lod  lives  and  loves. 

"I  must  not  write  anotber  word.  Kea  has 
opened  tbe  door,  ami  is  sbaking  bcr  bcml  omm- 
ouslv,  inquiring  if  tbe  docitor  gave  me  permission. 
As  if  I  c()uld  wait  for  tbat  beforu  writing  to  my 
own  little  sister.  I  wisb  you  knew  Hca.  Slie  is 
almast  as  sweet  as  anotli«r  little  maiden  I  know. 
Sbe  wants  to  see  you,  and  sball,  some  day. 

»(Jood-bye.  kiss  darling  mamma  over  and 
over   for  me,  and   wben   I   -.me  you  sbuU  bavo 

your  sbare  from  „ 

^  "  BuoTHER  TIeiiukut. 

"P.  S.— Ilea  is  my  pet  name  for  Fredrica. 
Tbat  name  does  not  suit  bcr,  neitber  does  Fred  ; 
sbe  is  a  brigbt,  sweet  girl-woman,  like  you,  1  rin- 
cess,  so  I  call  her  Kea.     Again,  good-bye. 


j-^r^'.'«',ffg'.'/-^?^'-;'^ 


IOC 


UERBEBT  GARDEJSELL,  Jit. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IS  IT  A  CALL? 

"  The  greatest  luxuries  of  life  are  not  possessions,  but  ex- 
pei'ieucos.  'J'he  higher  a  man  gets  in  his  being,  the  less  covet- 
ous he  becomes  for  something  to  own,  and  the  more  ambitious 
he  is  for  wealth  within." 

— Sunday  School  Times. 

"Surely  there  may  be  delay  without  frustration." 

— Geokgk  MacDonald. 


Olive  kissed  her  precious  letter  and  cried  over 
it  a  good  deal ;  because  she  felt  so  mixed  up  gen- 
eral! /  )ier  feelings  must  have  expression. 

"  I'm  not  worthy  of  his  love,  or  of  anybody's," 
she  said.  "  Stanton  is  liis  best  friend,  and  I've 
been  almost  hateful  to  him  because  he  has  a 
secret;  and — and  I've  almost  felt  hard  towards 
papa,  too.  I  wish  I  was  better.  If  Stanton 
dies  " — lip  trembling — "  then  what  shall  I  do  ? 
He  looked  as  if  he  was  dying,"  and  down  went 
the  brown  head,  and  the  rain  fell  copiously. 

She  felt  better  after  the  shower,  and  took  to 
her  Bible  and  her  knees.  The  long  strain  of 
months  was  telling  on  her  body,  and  she  blamed 
her  soul.    It  was  little   matter  where  her  need 


MiPiii 


li. 


IS  IT  A  CALL  t 


101 


iession8,  but  ex- 
,  the  less  covet- 
more  ambitions 

;hool  Times. 

ion." 

tfAcDoNALD. 

id  cried  over 
ixed  up  gen- 
lon. 

.anybody's," 
ikI,  and  I've 
>e  he  has  a 
lard   towards 

If  Stanton 
shall  I  do? 
I  down  went 
ously. 

and  took  to 
\g  strain  of 
I  she  blamed 
re  her  need 


lay,  since  she  hau  found  her  medicine,  fitted  as 
well  to  body  as  soul,  to  soul  as  body;  Earth's 
cure-all,  Heaven's  gift ! 

At  the  feet  of  Jesus  she  left  her  anxiety,  her 
perplexity.  He  was  Herbert's  Saviour,  Stanton's, 
hei-  father's,  her  mother's.  His  promise  was  for 
each  of  them  as  for  her.  "My  God  shall  supply 
all  your  need." 

It  was  quite  late  that  afternoon  when  she  des- 
cended to  the  sitting-room,  and  with  quiet  heart 
and  serene  face  lay  down  ou  the  couch.  She 
heard  the  door  open,  a  moment  after,  and  knew, 
without  looking  up,  who  it  was  entered  the  room. 
"Are  you  asleep,  Olive?"  The  hushed  voice 
could  not  have  disturbed  lightest  slumber. 

"No,  I  am  only  resting,"  opening  iier  eyes 
slowly,  and  with  almost  a  shudder.  How  would 
he  look?  She  could  not  foiget  the  ghastly  sight 
of  a  short  time  ago.  Could  she  believe  that  sight 
now  ?  Had  she  dreamed  it  all  ?  Here  was  Stan- 
ton Cartwright,  her  old  friend,  exactly  himself, 
unless,  indeed,  with  the  exception  of  a  slight 
pallor,   such  as    she    had    noticed   yesterday   at 

dinner-time. 

He  smiled  as  her  eyes  met  his,  and  sat  dov/n  in 
an  easy-chair.  Did  she  imagine  it  or  did  he  guard 
his  arm  as  he  seated  himself  ?  She  felt  like  a  per- 
son who  has  suffered  from  an  hallucination  and 
hardly  knows  what  is  fact  or  fiction. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Stanton?"  she  asked. 
"  Are  you  sick  ?  " 


igWIWIII  WftV-ll 


y%Jf>^^_\liiy^!:■^'V^v^J^^[ia.tJn^^t^'»j^!f  n'mu'^Mf»^mi\^'f^jfi^!^%iit),«^^K 


102 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


"  Me  !  "  in  utmost  astonishment.  "  What  a  ques- 
tion ! " 

"  You  look  pale,  and  you  did  yesterday  at  this 
time.  I'm  afraid  you  are  not  quite  well,  and  you 
act  as  if  your  arm  was  sore."  She  was  regarding 
him  with  keen,  scrutinizing  eyes. 

"It  is  a  little  stiff,"  he  admitted  carelessly. 
"Nothing  to  speak  of,  however." 

"  Did  you  hurt  it,  or  is  it  a  touch  of  rheuma- 
tism ?  Shall  I  bathe  it  for  you  ?  Isn't  there  some- 
thing I  can  do?" 

"  Not  a  thing,  thank  you.  I  wish  there  was  if  it 
would  please  you,  Olive." 

"Please  me?  Stanton,  it  could  not  please  me 
to  see  you  suffer." 

"  No,  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  I  did  not  mean  to  in- 
sinuate tliat.  I  suppose  it  would  please  you,  how- 
ever, if  I  were  suffering  to  give  me  ease,  relief  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  just  as  grateful  as  if  you 
had." 

She  did  not  lie  back  on  the  couch  from  which 
she  had  risen  at  his  enti-ance,  and  her  lips  quivered 
a  little. 

"  Stanton,  I  wish  you  would  lie  down  here ;  it 
would  do  me  good  to  see  you  stretched  out  com- 
fortably as  if  taking  things  easy.  I  don't  believe 
you  ever  think  of  yourself.  Most  men  seem  to  be 
stretchy,  all  but  our  men.  It  isn't  once  in  an  age 
we  can  coax  papa  down  for  a  rest.    Mamma  and  I 


'  '^'iflS-l  "i-W'jJ"^,' 


What  a  ques- 

irday  at  this 
veil,  and  you 
as  regarding 

i   carelessly. 

J  of  rlieuma- 
t  there  somo- 

lere  was  if  it 

it  please  nie 

;  mean  to  in- 
se  you,  liow- 
e,  relief?" 

ul  as  if  you 

from  which 
ips  quivered 

wn  here ;  it 
led  out  com- 
lon't  believe 
1  seem  to  be 
e  in  an  age 
amma  and  I 


fm 


IS  IT  A  CALL  t  108 

feel  quite  elated  when  we  do.  You  and  Iltnbert 
are  just  like  him." 

Stanton  smiled,  nothing  loth  to  be  counted  in 
with  "  our  men." 

"  If  it  will  really  please  you,  Puss,  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  accept  your  offer." 

She  watched  him  as  he  dropped  down,  and  wag 
again  conscious  of  the  care  with  which  he  shielded 

his  arm. 

"Bring  your  chair  close,  Olive,"  he  said;  "do 
not  compel  me  to  turn  to  look  in  your  face.  If  I 
am  expected  to  be  lazy,  I  will  be  real  lazy." 

She  laughed  and  drew  a  rocker  to  the  side  of  the 
couch.  **  How  delightful ! "  she  cried.  "  Your  six 
feet  do  not  seem  so  formidable  now,  even  if  they 
do  appear  to  increase  by  extension." 

He  passed  his  hands  over  his  ears.  "  Is  it  a 
pun?"  he  inquired,  "or  have  you  found  many 
things,   Ollie,  that  do  not  increase  as  they  ex- 

tend?" 

She  shook  her  head  reprovingly.  "Interrup- 
tions are  never  polite,"  she  laughed.  "  Mark  the 
power  of  strategy.  This  giant  who  used  to  tower 
above  me  is  on  his  back  and  at  my  mercy.  I  realize 
something  of  the  glory  of  conquest  in  seeing  you 

at  my  feet." 

"Olive,  I  have  been  there  for  years,"  he  said 

with  meaning. 

"  Please  be  reasbnable,  Stanton,  and  let  us  talk 
nothing  but  common  sense,"  she  said,  flushing 
slightly,  however. 


•  ;&?. .. 


104 


HERBERT  QARDENELL,  JR. 


"  I  thought  that  was  highest  reason,"  he  made 
answer ;  "  and  I  have  nothing  commoner  to  my  owi' 
sense  at  least." 

Slie  frowned  and  he  laughed  rogiiishly.  "  See, 
I  will  be  very  proper  and  ask  after  your  morning 
walk.     Did  you  enjoy  it?" 

"Tiie  walk?  yes,  somewhat.  But  tlip  calls  were 
a  failure."  Everybody  else  had  availed  them- 
selves of  the  line  weather  jis  well  as  myself." 

"  We  shall  guard  against  such  disappointment 
to-morrow,"  he  said,  "by  providing  our  own  com- 
pany." 

"  Perhaps,"  she  assented  with  some  dignity,  "  if 
we  go  "  And  then  meeting  the  humor  of  his 
twinkling  eyes  she  smiled  too,  deciding  that  -lig- 
nity  was  quite  thrown  away  on  such  a  graceless 
masculine. 

"I  suppose  you  spent  your  morning  with  the 
doctoi-s  as  usual?"  she  inquired,  and  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  most  penetrating  glance. 

"  I  did,"  he  answered  unhesitatingly,  and  with 
no  apparent  perturbation.  "  But  I  shall  not  be  in 
80  much  demand  hereafter.  OUie,  you  must  not 
be  so  jealous  of  the  doctore ;  they  have  not  diverted 
an  atom  of  my  interest  from  you." 

"  Jealous!  "  scornfully.  "  Mi'.  Cartwright,  you 
are  the  most  presuming  gentleman  of  my  acquaint- 
ance. One  would  think  the  honor  of  your  com~ 
pany  an  overwhelming  favor." 

"  It  is  well-nigh,"  he  answered  humorously.  "  I 
hate  to  deprive  the  doctors  of  so  rare  a  privilege, 


itSsajil-   ■•.3-.==:i.- 


i«ti-  I'liiiiifcwrifliWtiyfi^tiLi 


!^  nil  |iyniiiujni|ill,;^|i  i    .■■  |,[J,  l|jf  i 


)n,"  he  made 
er  to  my  own 

'mhly.  "  See, 
your  morning 

\\f  calls  were 
vailed    them- 
iiyself." 
sappointment 
3ur  own  cora- 

dignity,  "  if 
lumor  of  his 
ing  that  dig- 
li  a  graceless 

ing  with  the 
1  he  was  coi:- 

gly,  and  with 
hall  not  he  in 
yo\i  must  not 
)  not  diverted 

rt Wright,  you 
njy  acquaint- 
of  your  com- 

noi'ously.  "  I 
•e  a  privilege, 


IS  IT  A  CALL  r 


106 


and  yet  I  cannot  but  be  aware  of  how  you  languish 
uilliout  it." 

What  wivs  the  use  of  Y  ing  angry  with  the  rogue  ? 
Olive  condescended  to  coax.  "  Please  be  good, 
Stanton,  I  want  to  have  an  earnest  talk  with  you 
this  afternoon.  I  want  to  know  whether  you 
really  help  the  doctors  or  not." 
"  I  try." 

"  But  what  can  you  do  ?  Is  it  anything  ppecial 
or  only  ordinary  help?  and  in  either  case  why  will 
not  papa  do  as  well  ?  or  is  it  because  he  is  so  over- 
worked and  tired  ?  " 

"  What  an  interrogation  point  it  is  I  Has  it  for- 
gotten  that  the  pai-son  aspires  to  bo  a  doctor  as 
■well? "  putting  on  offended  dignity.  "  Or,  Olive, 
is  it  possible,"  regarding  her  with  serious  enough 
eyes  now,  "  that  you  really  think  so  little  of  me 
that  you  have  forgotten  how  I  have  been  pegging 
away  at  medicine  tliis  last  twelve  months  ?  " 

"  I  had  lorgotten,  truly,"  her  face  clearing  sud- 
denly. "  I  think  mamma's  sickness  has  put  every- 
thing else  out  of  my  mind.  And  will  it  help  you 
a  great  deal  to  bo  closeted  so   much  with  these 

men  ?  " 

"  I  trust  it  will.  All  knowledge  ought  to  mean 
gain,  both  to  ourselves  and  othera." 

"  Is  it  the  old  method  and  practice  or  something 
new  and  unusual  that  has  so  interested  you,  Stau- 

"  Something  quite  new,  at  least  to  rhe,  Olive." 
♦'Could  you  tell  mc   about  it?"    asked  this 


i,!^  .&,^.,rJ^  Jia^i^-.^.'^'TUt 


■jm-^" 


LI^IIWlHPWHWi 


iiyiiipi  III  |jipim|ipiiii.j|.y|i^iijn 


■«*■ 


106 


HERBEUT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


daughter  of  Rve,  in  wliat  lier  brother  Raymond 
would  have  called  a  wheedling  tone. 

"  Not  just  yet,  dear.     Some  day,  perhaps." 

"  Stanton,"  impatiently,  '*  how  would  you  like 
an  answer  like  that  to  some  question  tliat  inter- 
ests you  very  specially  ?  " 

"  Try  me  and  see,"  he  retorted  quickly.  "  I 
have  the  question  leady,  Ollie,  and  I  don't  believe 
I'd  object." 

"  Well,  I  object  to  such  foolish  talk,  and  I  can't 
see  what  mystery  there  need  be  about  a  little 
knowledge,  except  indeed  I  am  too  foolish,  too 
obtuse  to  learn.  I  do  not  wonder  either,"  deject- 
edly. "I've  been  thinking  only  to-day  of  how 
you  and  Herbert  are  straining  every  point  to  be 
ready  for  the  largest  kind  o*  life-work,  and  I — I 
am  idling  away  my  time." 

"  Not  at  present,  dear.     Be  just  with  youi-self." 

"No,  not  these  last  few  months,  but  before 
that,  Stanton.  It  is  over  a  year  since  I  graduated, 
and  besides  a  few  extra  studies  with  Herbert,  a 
few  lessons  in  cutting  and  fitting  from  Miss 
Moses,  and  my  music  and  visiting  with  papa  and 
Herbert " 

"  Quite  a  long  catalogue,"  he  interrupted  sooth- 
ingly. 

"  But  how  much  will  it  count  in  preparing  me 
for  my  life-work?" 

"  Everything  counts  that  makes  us  better  able 
either  to  do  or  be  or  bear,  and  that  is  learned  for 
the  Miister's  sake  and  with  His  benediction." 


It. 

ler  Raymond 

limps." 
ould  you  like 
»n  that  intur- 

quickly.  "  I 
don't  believe 

c,  and  I  can't 
jout  a  little 
I  foolish,  too 
ther,"  deject- 
i-day  of  how 
•y  point  to  be 
)ik,  and  I — I 

th  youraelf." 
but  before 
I  gmduated, 
h  Herbert,  a 
f  from  Miss 
^ith  papa  and 

rupted  sootii- 

preparing  me 

IS  better  able 
s  learned  for 
liction." 


la  IT  A  CALL  t 


107 


»  lint  Africa,  Stanton,  Africa  !  You  have  your 
luedicine,  and  Herbert  his  linguistic  abilities  and 
research  and  acquainUince  with  languages  and 
nations,  Harry  his  mechanism,  and  all  of  you  your 
preaching.     What  have  I  ?  " 

"  Power  to  teach  the  women  to  cut  and  sew 
their  »in,ple  garments,  and  the  children  to  read 
and  write  and  cipher:  the  gift  of  song  and  touch 
that  will  rouse  in  the  hardest  man  desire  for 
heavenly  things  and  inspire  the  missionary  to 
greater  effort.  Surely,  Olive,  that  is  blessed  prep- 
aration for  the  Lord's  '  Well  done'." 

She  lifted  a  flushed,  enthused  face.  "  Stanton, 
I  think,  I  hope,  I  almost  know,  sometimes  that 
I  shall  go  to  Africa  as  well  as  you." 

"I  trust  you  will  my "  He  stopped  the  word 

of  endearment  before  it  fell. 

"I  know  I  shall  if  Herbert  goes,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  But,  well,  I  suppose  I  should  not  want 
to  go  without  him."  ^^ 

"  Not  if  God  asked  you  to  go,  Olive  ?  ' 
"Well,  of  coui-se,  if  I  knew  God  called  me  I 
would  have  to  go." 

"Would  it  be  hard  for  you  to  go  anywhere  for 
Jesus,  Olive,  even  if  you  had  to  go  alone?  "he 
continued  earnestly,  scanning  the  young  face. 

"Yes,"  she  hesitated.  "It  would  be  hard. 
But— but  I  think  I  could  do  it  for  Him.  Yes,  I 
know  I  could  and  I  would,"  with  grave  determina- 
tion. And  just  then  came  a  light  tap  on  the  door 
and  a  gentle  "May  I  come?" 


■•'AalmiiaMtfUk 


•^r- 


^iw^^>—»n  umiwi  t^f 


108 


IlKltliEltT  OAHDFNELL,  JR. 


"  Of  coui-80  you  nmy,"  cried  Olive  gladly,  as  a 
Bweet  fiice  surrounded,  by  little  clinging  rings  of 
brown  hair,  ])oeped  in.  "Lie  still,  Stanton," 
peremptorily  as  the  young  man  witli  native  court- 
esy started  to  rise  in  gieeting  to  tlio  new-comer. 
"  I  will  wait  on  Leo  myself.  Sit  right  here  in  my 
chair  where  you  can  help  me  watch  this  culprit, 
and  I  will  get  another  for  myself." 

"  I  Ix'g  yo'ir  i)ardon,  but  I  heard  your  last  ques- 
tion, Mr.  Cartwriglit,  and  Miss  Olive's  answer," 
said  Miss  Erdley,  and  the  two  looking  at  iier  per- 
ceived that  her  usually  pale  face  wius  flushed  with 
a  kind  of  glory.  «  You  were  talking  of  missions, 
and  I  could  not  but  hear.  I  wanted  to  come  in 
and  see  you  talk.  If  "—and  she  spoke  quickly, 
eagerly,  as  if  the  words  were  pressing  for  utter- 
ance—" if  any  one  was  so  honored  of  Cf od  as  to 
receive  His  call  to  such  work  and  free  to  follow  it, 
who  would  ask  higher  joys  ?  " 

Stanton's  full  smile  answered  her.  "No  mortal 
who  ever  knew  His  love,"  he  made  reply. 

"  But  does  lie  ever  call  wliere  we  cannot  fol- 
low? "asked  Olive. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Cartwright,  answer  that !  "  cried 
Lenore,  driven  out  of  her  usual  reserve.  "  There 
are  times  when  I  so  faint  for  the  privilege,  it 
seems  almost  like  receiving  a  call." 

"If  Herbert— Olive's  brother— were  here," 
answered  Stanton,  "  he  would  say  that  to  see  a 
need  and  have  wherewith  to  meet  it  constituted 
tlie  highest  call.     He  thinks  men  need  very  decided 


TT- 


R. 

3  gliully,  as  a 
jiiig  rings  ot 
11,  Stanton," 
nativu  court- 
3  new-coinor. 
t  liore  in  my 
this  culprit, 

•ur  lust  ques- 
e's  answer," 
^  ut  her  per- 
flushed  with 
of  missions, 
to  come  in 
)ke  quickly, 
ig  for  utter- 
'  Ood  as  to 
to  follow  it, 

"No  mortal 

.ly. 

3  cannot  fol- 

at !  "  cried 
e.  "  There 
privilege,  it 

I'eve  here," 
it  to  see  a 
constituted 
ery  decided 


IS  IT  A  CALLt 


lot 


calls  to  stay  away  from  the  foreign  field  rallier 
than  to  go  to  it,  since  the  '  Go,  thou,'  is  a  com- 
mand  and  has  been  given  to  us  all." 

Olive  hardly  heard  his  answer.     She  was  watch- 
ing the  play  of  emotion  on  the  mobile  face  beloio 

hur. 

"  I  know  the  need,  its  awfulness  almost  brciuks 
my  heart  at  times,"  said  the  lady,  and  her  voice  wns 
tremulous.     "  I  have  wl-at  will  meet  it  fully,  I  am 
sure  of  that;  I've  tried  .c  for  myself,"— eagerly,  a 
delicate  flush  tinging  her  cheeks.     "  I  hivve  thought 
sometimes  I  would  willingly  give  half  the  yeai-s  of 
my  life  for  the  privilege  of  telling  during  the  other 
half,  to  those    who  never  knew   it,  the    power  of 
CL.ist  to  save.      I  think,"  solemnly,  "  I  would  l)e 
willing  to  die  on  the  shores  of  some  far-away  land, 
if  only  in  dying  I  might  show  those  lost  ones  how 
death  is  swallowed  up  in  Life— Life  Eternal." 
"  Surely  you  are  called,"  cried  Olive. 
Stanton    drew   himself  up  to  a  sitting  posture 
and   extended   his   hand.     "As   a   missionary    of 
Jesus  Christ  I  bid  you  welcome  to  our  company. 
I  trust  there  is  nothing  can  hinder  your  going." 

She  did  not  seem  to  see  his  outstretched  i)alm. 
She  let  drop  the  hands  that  had  clasped  them- 
selves together  in  her  lap  and  stood  upon  her  feet. 
She  looked  as  if  ready  to  flee. 

»  Hush  I "  she  said,  "hush  1  You  must  not  ask 
me,  I  must  not  ask  myself.  It  is  like  a  glimpse 
of  heaven  to  one  who  cannot  enter.'-  And  she 
was  gone. 


'in 


■l-w 


.11 


H»fP 


mm 


110 


IIKHBERT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


The  young  iimii  looked  into  tho  tuoj  of  his 
conipnnion.  ^'  If  anything  should  come  up  to 
liinder  me,  OUie,  I  Hhould  feel  like  that.     Would 

you?" 

The  question  was  asked  tenderly,  earnestly,  and 
tlio  maiden  rose  quietly  and  slipped  out  of  the 
room.  She  could  not  answer  it.  But  some  vision 
of  life's  heavenly  intent  had  reached  her  yet 
bound  soul  and  lifted  it  ui)ward  toward  larger 
possibilities. 

She  would  not  forget  the  present  tense  in  voice 
as  well  as  word,  as  Lenore's  creed  droppfjd  from 
her  lips :  "  Death  i»  swallowed  up  in  Life."  Be- 
yond its  utterance  was  its  reality.  An  incarnate 
Easter! 


u. 

laov)  of  his 
come  up  to 
hat.     Would 


HIS  MOTHER'S  OOD. 


Ill 


lariiestly,  and 
I  out  of  the 
t  Honie  vision 
hed  her  yet 
award   larger 

ense  in  voice 
Iroppfxl  from 
1  Life."  Be- 
\n  incarnate 


CHAPTER  X. 
HIS  mother's  god. 

"  Every  »orrow  liath  Its  bound 
And  no  cross  endures  forever." 

~P.  OKRHAnDT. 

At  dinner-hour  there  was  a  very  quiet  group  in 
the  dining-room.  Lenore  Erdley  was  paler  than 
usual  and  seemed  preoccupied.  Only  Mr.  Gar- 
denell  appeared  like  himself ;  the  great  burden  that 
had  been  lifted  from  his  heart  made  him  cheerful, 
and  he  kept  the  conversation  from  lagging. 

As  they  pushed  their  chairs  from  the  table  Olive 
lianded  her  brother's  letter  to  her  father.  His  face 
lighted.  "Herbert's  own  handwriting,  he  must 
be  improving,"  he  said. 

"Have  you  read  this  to  Stanton,  yet?"  in- 
quired the  gentleman  as  he  finished  the  sheet. 

"  No,  sir." 

Mr.  Gardenell  passed  the  epistle  to  the  young 
man.  She  jaw  the  shadow  of  a  smile  flicker  over 
his  face  as  he  read,  and  knew  what  was  lurking  in 
the  eyes  she  avoided  as  he  quietly  returned  the 

letter. 

The  two  gentlemen  excused  themselves   after 


..'.ifiiBiK^' ' 


wmm 


112 


IIHUIIKHI  OMIUKSEI.L,  J II. 


BUpjM-r  ami,  arm  in  arm,  nMccMidtMl  to  tlio  Hliuly. 
MisH  Erdlcy  rmirtluMl  Imr  work  for  tlui  «lay  and 
btulo  licr  frujnd  ^nod-night  with  luoro  than  iiHual 
tfiuloiiifHs.     Olivo  Hat  al«)UO. 

Sho  bronglit  hor  \vriliiij,'-desk  to  tlio  window,  hJio 
would  liavo  a  that  with  Herbert ;  it  was  a  comfort 
to  turn  to  him,  even  on  paper,  the  natural  rect'i*- 
taclo  of  hor  woes.     Lot  ua  [)ocp  over  her  Hhoulder. 

"  Yrm  PRECiors  OLD  IlKitnKUT.- How  I  love 
you  and  long  to  see  you.  1  envy  Aunt  Jessie  and 
cousin  Fred  every  day  I  live,  but  what  good  does 
that  do,  1  wonder? 

"  Yes,  Stanton  is  here,  and  ho  is  sueh  a  comfort, 
only  I  wouldn't  have  him  thiidi  so  for  the  world — 
anil  so  much  like  yon,  only  not  (piiU; ;  and  wo 
could  never  have  lived  through  the  last  week 
without  him. 

"  Papa  says  I  may  tell  you  how  very  sick  mammii 
has  been  now  that  she  is  getting  better.  I!o 
looks  as  if  ten  years  had  rolled  off  of  his  hack 
since  yesterday.  He  is  almost  as  young  and  boy- 
ish as  Stanton  from  sheer  relief,  for  mamma  knows 
him,  and  wants  him  beside  her;  and  she  has  asked 
for  me,  and  I  am  to  hvm  her  tomorrow.  I  am  so 
glad. 

"Of  course  you  don't  know  how  dreadful  it  ha-» 
Ix^en,  the  house  shut  up,  the  bells  mut!led,  and 
everybody  feeling  that  they  nuist  move  so  quietly 
even'  after  it  was  nnneoessary,  l)ecauso  somehow 
the  dread  had  got  inside  us,  and  we  could  not 
be  ourselves.  Then  yon  know  Bessie  went  West 
some  weeks  before  mamma's  woi-st  attack,  and 
the  new  girl  was  green  and  ignorant.  She  got 
frightened   when  so   many   doctoi-s   were   called. 


uis  MOTiiLivs  uon. 


Ill 


tlio   Htudy. 

Ill)  (liiy  and 

tiiiiii  usual 

window,  kIiu 

'118  A  coin  fort 

tniiil  ifcojH 

rr  shouldur. 

How  I  love 

it  JvHsio  and 
lit  f^ood  does 

li  II  comfort, 

tlio  world — 

ii((!  ;  mid  wo 

0   lust   week 

sick  nminnia 
better.  Ho 
'  of  liiH  hack 
uiii^  and  Ixiy- 
lainnia  knows 
slio  liius  asked 
w.     I  am   so 

readfiil  it  Iwn 

iniitHcd,  and 

ve  so  quiet ly 

use  somehow 

ve  could  not 

ie  went  West 

attack,  and 

lit.     She  jjot 

were  called. 


She  wiiH  HO  HuiMir.HtitiouH  that  it  wnn  no  use  to  tell 
lier  there  wiw  uothiti}^  couta^iouM  alM)Ut  the  disenMe. 
She  knew  lN>tter,  knew  wu  would  all  die;  the 
(flooin  and  tiie  fear  '  jist  takes  away  nie  hem  I, 
sure,'  hIio  mtid,  ho  she  took  her  Ixxly  off  too  with 
all  its  Ixjlongin^. 

"  Vou  can  inia(;iiii)  how  papa  and  I  fult  all  alone 
in  this  house  without  any  help  hut  Huch  as  Mrs. 
Kllis,  tlie  (tiiarwoman  coidd  ^ive,  and  two  nurses  to 
Ik)  fed.  We  hiuln'teven  a  maid,  for  i  had  planned 
to  d«)  the  Hecond  work  In-fore  all  these  thing's 
hap[>encd.  Your  letter  and  Aunt  Jessie's  came 
both  on  one  day,  and  AlK)ut  two  weeks  ludoro 
matte ix  reiu;hed  their  climax.  So  I  could  neither 
send  for  or  write  to  you,  my  comfort,  and  it  did 
seem  I  could  not  l)ear  it  when  they  Hhut  me  out  of 
mamma's  room.  Papa's  fiu^o  grew  so  white  and 
sad  I  dared  not  burden  liim  with  my  lonelinesH 
and  dread. 

"  And  then,  the  morning  afte.  Bridget  left,  liefore 
I  had  been  a  day  alone,  who  bIiouUI  come,  just  in 
time  to  get  dinner  for  me,  but  Hplendid  old  Stanton. 
He's  Ixitter  help  than  any  girl  we  ever  had.  The 
way  he  straightened  out  the  house,  made  c(.'flee 
and  muffins  and  broiled  steak,  was  surprising.  I 
was  80  glad  to  see  him,  and  it  seemed  so  much  like 
having  you  tliat  1  just  hugged  him,  and  he  has 
imposed  upon  me  ever  since  in  a  very  unmanly 
fiLshion. 

I  have  one  thing  against  him.  He  is  keeping 
a  secret  from  me.  The  day  after  he  came  he  was 
closeted  with  the  doctor  for  s(!veral  houis,  and  the 
next  day,  too,  and  he  hasn't  told  mo  a  word  almut 
it.  Not  that  I  have  really  a.sk(*d,  but  ho  knows  I 
want  to  understand  it,  and  I  don't  believe  I  shall 
forgive  him.  He  dropped  a  few  crumbs  of  com- 
8 


:'Aimiii.sMii>m>tiai^-ittiii^ii*^- 


■■^mmMiiih. 


!#*= 


tmm 


114 


lIEltUKHT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


m 


1 1 


f  1 


fort.  You  know  lie  is  studying  medicine,  and  lie 
thinks  it  will  help  him  to  be  with  these  learnoi 
men.  That's  for  Africa.  And  he  asks  me  questions 
that  I  cannot  answer,  and  looks  at  me  in  a  way 
that  opens  to  me  all  my  private  wickednesses  and 
weaknf3SHes  and  makes  me  feel  I  shall  never  be  fit 
either  to  go  to  Africa  or  to  stay  at  home  unless  the 
Lord  does  more  for  me  than  lie  luvs. 

"  Herbert,  I  think  you  and  Stanton,  and  papa 
and  mamma  have  a  different  kind  of  religion  from 
mine.  Any  way  it  acts  differently,  and  yet  I 
know  I  love  Jesus.  I  was  so  thankful  for  the 
Sunday-school  lesson  on  the  blind  man  of  John  9  : 
for  I  do  know  one  thing,  Herbert ;  I  can  see.  Yes 
I  can  see  well  enough  at  least  to  discover  all  my 
own  deficiencies,  and  I  never  had  so  many  as  since 
Stanton  Cartwright  was  in  this  house.  Not  that 
he  has  been  angelic,  and  I  lose  by  comparison.  I 
haven't  discovered  the  firet  speck  of  a  wing  yet. 
But  in  spite  of  all  his  fun  and  teasing,  there  is 
something  about  him  that  makes  everybody  that 
knows  hiui  want  to  be  better. 

"  If  I  write  much  more  there  will  not  be  room 
for  papa,  and  he  wants  to  add  a  few  words.  I 
hope  he  won't  read  this,  for  he  quite  aids  and 
abets  Stanton  in  his  secrets  and  jjlans.  Papa 
loves  him  as  much  as  you  do,  and  so  do  I,  only  I 
don't  tliink  it  wise  to  let  him  know. 

"  Write  to  me  very  soon.  If  you  were  here  all 
would  be  right.  I  am  always  good  when  I  am 
with  you.  That  is  one  reason  I  want  to  go  with 
you  to  Africa.  I  may  be  able  thei.  to  do  a  little 
for  Christ ;  without  yon  it  would  take  most  of  my 
time  to  look  out  for  myself.  Give  my  love  to 
Aunt  Jessie  and  Fred,  and  take  a  great  big  lot  for 
yourself.     Get  well  fast  for  the  sake  of  your 

"  Olive. 


pWfWIWPIR' 


licine,  and  lie 
these  learnol 

I  me  questions 
me  in  a  way 
ednesses  and 

II  never  be  fit 
ime  unless  the 

ton,  and  papa 
religion  from 
y,  and  yet  I 
nkful  for  the 
m  of  John  9  : 
can  see.  Yes 
icover  all  my 
iiany  as  since 
e.  Not  that 
(mparison.  I 
i  a  wing  yet. 
ising,  there  is 
/erybody  that 

not  be  i-oom 
Bw  words.  I 
lite  aids  and 
plans.      Papa 

0  do  I,  only  I 

wei'e  here  all 

1  when  I  am 
nt  to  go  with 
to  do  a  little 
:e  most  of  my 
i  my  love  to 
sat  big  lot  for 
of  your 

"  Olive. 


HIS  M0TUEK8  GOD. 


116 


up  S.— I  forgot  to  tell  you  about  Lenore 
Erdley,  our  new  helper.  Isn't  it  a  romantic 
name?  and  she  isn't  a  bit  like  anybody  else;  she  a 
better.  We  only  have  her  until  we  get  some  one 
else,  but  I  hope  we  shall  never  get  anybody,  be- 
cause no  one  will  be  like  her.  She's  just  beau- 
tiful I  love  her  dearly,  and  so  does  btanton. 
lie  admires  her.  She  is  like  a  real  story  being 
lived  out  before  your  eyes.  And  she  is  your  kuid 
of  a  Cliristian,  too.  ■,      .  u 

"  There,  I  haven't  told  you  anything  abo'io  her. 
I  can't.  She  loves  missions  just  as  Stanton  and 
vou  do,  as  if  her  he-'rt  were  already  over  in  some 
distant  land.  She  nas  a  secret,  too,  I'm  most  sure. 
You  can  see  it  way  b;ick  in  lior  lovely  gray  eyes, 
and  yet  she  is  so  quiet  and  tender,  and  happy.  U 
dear,  I  wish  I  was  like  her.  You  would  all  be 
proud  of  me  then  and  I  need  not  be  ashamed  of 
Lyself.  "Olive.' 

It  was  quite  dark  before  the  letter  was  finished. 
Olive  had  lighted  the  gas  to  see  the  last  page. 
She  wondered  what  her  father  and  Stanton  could 
be  doing,  and  if  they  had  quite  forgotten  her. 
She  crept  up  over  the  staii-s  and  halted  at  the  study 
door.  She  could  hear  deep,  manly  voices,  and  her 
desire  for  companionship  overcame  her  pique  as 
she  knocked. 

"  Come,"  said  papa,  recognizing  the  rap,  and  in 
the  dim  light  she  was  sure  she  saw  Stanton  Cart- 
wright  with  one  arm  thrown  about  her  father's 
neck  sitting  on  the  arm  of  his  great  chair.  That 
was  no  strange  attitude  for  any  of  her  brothers, 
even  Herbert  or   Ray,  grown  men  though   they 


^^^js^mm^m^si^^^'--''^'^^'^^^^*'^^''^^^^ 


If 


«*<«■ 


116 


IJEllBEItT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


were.  But  Stanton — there  was  a  flash  of  almost 
jealousy  as  the  young  man  came  to  the  door  and 
led  her  to  her  father's  arms. 

She  flung  hei-self  on  the  broad  bosom,  nestled 
her  face  in  under  his  neck,  and  kept  very  still. 

"  I  have  not  di  turbed  you  ?"  she  whispered. 

"  My  darling,  you  never  disturb  me.  I  had 
forgotten  it  was  so  late,  and  Lenore  must  be  gone." 
But  she  quite  knew  she  had  interrupted  their  con- 
versation. 

They  began  again  after  a  little — she  wondered 
if  it  was  on  the  self-same  subject — and  the  deep, 
calm,  quiet  voices  lulled  her  to  deepest  repose. 
They  were  discussing  missions  now,  whatever 
had  been  their  previous  theme:  missions  and 
men.  Olive  knew  her  father  was  an  authority  on 
such  matter.4;  she  wsis  used  t«  aearing  the  various 
fields  discussed — Hudson  Taylor  and  the  China 
Inland  Mission,  Paton  and  Tanna,  Mackay  and 
Uganda.  Listening,  intei'ested  as  she  surely  was, 
she  yet  fell  fast  asleep  and  was  carried  by  her 
father  to  bed  as  so  often  in  her  childhood  days. 

As  the  young  man  opened  the  study  door  for 
tlieir  egress  and  waited  in  the  dusk  for  his  friend's 
return,  is  it  strange  that  he  questioned  whether  he 
had  a  right  to  take  this  young,  untried  life,  from 
such  tender,  sheltering  care,  into  the  hard,  dark 
places  they  had  just  been  discussing,  wliere  his 
strong,  true  heart  panted  to  follow  his  Master  ? 

Ileil)ert  Gardenell,  Jr.,  had  written  the  truth 
■frhen  he  assured  his  loved  ones  that  there  was 


»?  Is  imimmwim  iMvn\m>«t 


wtMiniMiail* 


U18  ^OTHER'S  aOD. 


117 


*J»  of  almost 
[he  door  and 

[som,  nestled 
ery  stilJ. 
liispeied. 
me.     I  had 
1st  be  gone." 
ed  tlieir  con- 

16  wondered 
nd  the  deep, 
pest  repose, 
whatever 
lissions  and 
luthority  on 
tlie  various 
the  China 

tfackay  and 

I  surely  was, 

ried   by  her 

)od  days. 

dy  door  for 
his  fiiend's 
wliether  lie 

d  life,  from 
hard,  dark 
where   his 

Master  ? 

1  the  truth 
there  waa 


nothing  dangerous  about  his  illness.  He  was  sick 
enough,  however,  to  satisfy  himself  and  alarm  his 
aunt. 

The  weariness,  the  languor,  the  feverish  ex- 
haustion were  well  nigh  as  insupportable  as  actual 
pain  would  have  been.  Then,  too,  he  had  a  haunt- 
ing consciousness  that  something  was  withheld 
from  him,  that  all  was  not  well  with  the  friends 
at  home.  Had  it  not  been  for  his  trust  in  God 
this  anxiety  might  have  seriously  changed  the 
character  of  his  disease.  As  it  was  he  committed 
his  dear  ones  to  his  Maker  and,  day  after  day,  as 
the  fear  returned,  enhanced  by  the  shadow  of  de- 
lirium, he  laid  it  back  on  the  Mightiest  with  his 
old-time  watch-word  as  well  as  Stanton  Cart- 
wright's  and  Isaiah's,  "  I  will  trust  and  not  be 
afraid." 

Immediately  after  the  reception  of  Mre.  Roger's 
letter,  telling  of  his  son's  illness,  Mr.  Gardenell 
had  written  that  lady,  in  reference  to  his  wife's 
condition.  Olive,  as  you  will  remember,  wrote  at 
the  same  time  to  Herbert,  carefully  shunning  any 
allusion  to  her  mother.  She  wonderfully  succeeded 
in  soothing  and  amusing  her  brother.  He  kept 
this  "  love-letter  "  as  he  called  it,  under  his  pillow 
for  days. 

"  That  green-eyed  monster  has  fastened  on  my 
heart,"  she  wrote,  "  and  it  is  Cousin  Fred  he 
maligns.  Poor  me  I  what  would  I  give  to  be  in 
her  place.  I  want  her  to  be  very  kind  and  good  to 
you,  as  good  as  I  could  possibly  be,  only  I  am  sure 


.,m 


ir~- 


ri    y 


I'll 


if 


■! 


;i 


U 


118 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


I  cannot  bear  it  if  you  are  as  grateful  to  her  aa 
you  would  be  to  me,  or  if  you  give  her  too  lavishlv 
of  your  smiles  and  thanks." 

And  who  could  ask  better  care  than  this  invalid 
received.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rogera  and  Fred  vied  with 
each  other  in  anticipating  his  every  wish,  and 
there  would  have  been  nothing  too  difficult  for  any 
member  of  this  household  to  attempt,  if  there  had 
been  the  barest  chance  of  its  adding  to  the  comfort 
of  their  beloved  patient. 

But  Herbert  required  little.  And  this  Aunt 
Jessie  declared  caused  her  greatest  solicitude.  His 
uncomplaining  patience  and  grateful  conscious- 
ness of  every  smallest  kindness  filled  her  with 
gravest  feai-s.  Could  anybody  so  good  recover 
from  illness?  Would  he  not  die  after  all?  She 
told  her  husband  privately  that  it  would  bring 
her  instant  relief  if  Herbert  would  only  get  cross 
just  once. 

Mrs.  Rogers  had  carefully  concealed  from  him 
his  mother's  condition,  but  not  as  Avholly  as  she 
supposed.  His  father  had  thought  it  best  to  tell 
him  a  portion  of  the  truth.  It  was  necessary.  His 
boy  was  too  well  acquainted  with  his  mother  to 
believe  anything  but  inability  would  keep  lier  from 
his  side  if  he  suffered;  only  actual  impossibility 
could  keep  her  from  pouring  out  her  heart  to  him 
on  paper.  No  word  from  her  would  mean,  "  I  can- 
not hold  my  pen."  It  was  better  to  tell  him  what  he 
must  guess. 

"  Your  mother  has  not  been  so  well  since  you 


*r^A,!i-.t^*<.'tt«S3   ■iMttIfl«&W«'«SiMBmSKii!sX«tfWfcA;i**W*W'*«<lfi 


«. 


HIS  MOTIIKIVS  OOD. 


UJ) 


ful  to  her  aa 

r  too  lavishly 

this  invalid 

ed  vied  with 

■y  wish,  and 

icult  for  any 

if  there  had 

the  comfoit 

i  this  Aunt 
citude.  His 
I  conscious- 
Jd  her  with 
ood  recover 
Jr  all?  She 
would  bring 
ily  get  cross 

d  from  him 
holly  as  she 
best  to  tell 
3ssary.  His 
3  mother  to 
!ep  her  from 
inpossibility 
leart  to  him 
?a",  "  I  can- 
liinj  whathe 

I  since  you 


left  home,"  he  wrote.  "  Her  strength  diminishes 
rather  than  increases,  but  we  are  trusting  God  the 
record  soon  may  change.  Meanwhile  Dr.  Germaine 
thinks  it  not  best  to  inform  her  of  your  illness  and 
thus  add  sorrow  to  her  weakness.  She  does  not 
suffer  much  pain,  let  us  thank  God  for  that.  I 
know  her  son  can  trust  his  mother's  God,  and  for' 
her  sake,  as  well  as  mine  and  his  own,  keep  a 
steady  heart,  obey  every  direction  of  physician  and 
nurse,  making  haste  slowly  that  it  may  be  surely," 

Since  then  his  father  had  written  but  once  and 
to  Aunt  Jessie.  The  patient  knew  nothing  of  this 
letter,  but  his  heart  was  uneasy,  especially  so  at 
times,  and  he  tried  to  stay  it  on  God.  "  He 
knows,"  he  would  whisper  to  himself.  "  He 
knows  and  He  can  help.  Just  hold  her  close 
for  my  sake  to-day,  Lord.  Rest  her  to-night, 
Jesus,  rest  her  sweetly,  and  let  her  wake  better  in 
the  morning." 

And  Mrs.  Rogers,  catching  some  of  these  words, 
thought  his  mind  wandered,  and  went  away  to 
weep  and  pray. 

But  he  was  gaining.  He  began  to  improve  from 
the  hour  Stanton's  letter  reached  him  with  its 
hearty  cheer  and  overflowing  life.  "I  am  going 
to  New  York,  old  fellow,  congratulate  me.  I  wish 
you  were  there,  but  can  better  afford  to  miss  you 
than  somebody  else  whom  I  very  much  want  to  see. 
I  am  going  to  risk  my  fate.     Wish  me  good-luck." 

Oh,  the  relief  of  it  1  The  letter  liad  been  for- 
warded to  the  sick  man  from  his  last  halting-place 


nr 


120 


UEltUEUT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


and  was  two  weeks  old  wlien  it  arrived.  His 
friend  might  even  now  be  with  tlie  dear  ones,  taking 
his  place.  The  comfort  of  the  thought  1  VJeak 
as  he  was,  he  began  a  letter  to  Olive.  It  took 
several  days  for  its  completion,  and  was  hardly 
despatched  before  a  telegram  from  Stanton  reached 
him,  sent  the  afternoon  of  the  young  man's  arrival 
in  New  York. 

♦'  Heie  to  hold  the  fort.  Don't  worry.  Take  a 
strong  dose  of  Isaiah.  I  suggest  chapter  twelfth, 
also  the  fortieth,  twenty-ninth  to  thirty-first 
verses  inclusive." — Stanton. 

Sonietliing  helped  Herbert,  perhaps  it  was  the 
prescription.  Aunt  Jessie  seemed  inclined  to  think 
Stanton  Cartwright  a  first-class  physician,  judging 
from  the  effects  of  his  medicine.  From  that  day 
her  i)atient  gained  steadily. 

Con  valescence  has  its  charms.  After  a  while 
Herbeit  was  able  to  sit  up  a  little  and  listen  while 
some  one  read  to  him. 

Later  on  he  was  permitted  to  walk  about  the 
house,  then  the  grounds,  by  and  by  short  drives 
were  allowed,  and  he  began  to  prize  his  privileges. 
Elsie  and  Marian  had  been  home  for  some  weeks, 
to  say  nothing  of  Nason.  And  all  of  them  were 
at  his  disposal,  ready  to  come  or  go  at  his  beck 
and  call. 

How  sweet  the  air  of  early  summer.  It  stirred 
with  life.  The  invalid  took  great  breaths  of  it  and 
never  tired.  It  was  blessed  to  live,  be  well,  be 
strong  ;  and  every  day  now  new  vigor  came  to  his 


tkiui^^^jmBBMffiamlm9Mnqpt.v« 


JH. 

• 

arrived.  His 
ar  ones,  taking 
jught  1  Weak 
Hive.  It  took 
id  was  hardly 
tanton  reached 
y  man's  arrival 

vorry.     Take  a 

lapter  twelfth, 

to    thirty-first 

aps  it  was  the 
iclined  to  think 
sician,  judging 
Prom  that  day 


UIH  MOTHER'S  GOD. 


1'21 


hody,  new  light  to    his  eyes,  fresh  color  to  his 

face. 

Tliis  was  especially  true  after  he  received  that 
lust  letter  of  Olive's  witli  its  i)recious  enclosure 
from  his  father.  Ilia  heart  was  set  at  rest,  for  he 
knew  all  now.  His  mother's  danger,  her  recovery, 
his  friend's  part  in  the  same,  and  the  delicacy  that 
preferred  to  keep  the  facts  from  Olive.  Did  ever 
any  man  before  possess  such  a  friend  as  his  ?  His 
heart  swelled  with  grateful  pride. 

The  proan  of  praise  with  which  his  father  closed 
his  epistle  reached  the  reader's  soul,  stirring  all  the 
sluggish  currents  of  his  being  until  they  leaped 
anew  to  claim  life's  duties  and  rewards. 


After  a  while 
nd  listen  while 


valk  about  the 
)y  short  drives 
i  his  privileges, 
ar  some  weeks, 
of  them  were 
go  at  his  beck 

ler.  It  stiried 
ireaths  of  it  and 
ve,  be  well,  be 
mr  came  to  his 


122 


llEUUKUr  OAllDENELL,  JR. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
"I  don't  like  questions." 

"  The  sweetest  sound  our  whole  yea     aund  ; 
'Tis  the  first  robin  of  the  spring  i " 

"Some  measure  love  l>y  gold, 

By  endless  time,  by  soundless  sea  ; 
But  I — 1  love  you  well  enough 

To  leave  you,  love,  If  needs  must  be." 

— FuEUEiticK  J.  Parous. 

"  Is  there  a  young  lady  here,  who  wishes  to  go 
with  me  tliis  inorniiig  ? " 

The  day  was  hiight,  the  liour  early,  the  speaker 
Stanton  Cartwright,  as  he  walked  into  the  dining- 
room  where  two  girls  were  Inisy  wilh  their  work. 
There  had  been  a  week  of  damp,  chilly  weather, 
wholly  frustrating  the  plans  he  had  made  for  a 
tramp,  but  surely  this  day  had  dawned  ^or  just  this 
purpose. 

"  Have  you  an  answer  for  Mr.  Cartwright,  Lee  ?  " 
asked  one. 

"  Not  I,"  with  a  quick,  mirthful  glance.  "  I  am 
far  too  busy,  even  if  I  were  the  invited  party.  But 
there  isn't  a  single  reason  why  you  should  refuse."' 

"  Hear,  hear,"  applauded  the  gentleman.    "  Get 


smsss 


L,  JR. 


I  DO.VT  LIKE  questions:' 


12a 


IONS. 

feu     oimd ; 

ng  .' 

8  8CS  ; 

mist  be." 

£i<ic'K  J.  Parous. 

'ho  wishes  to  go 

ally,  the  speaker 
into  the  diniiig- 
wilh  their  work. 
,  chilly  weather, 
hud  made  for  n 
vned  'or  just  this 

irtwright,  Lee  ?  " 

glance.  "  I  am 
ited  party.  But 
I  should  refuse.'' 
ntleman.    *'  0«t 


on  your  wraps  speedily,  Olive,  wo  must  not  miss  a 

moment  of  this  goldon  morning." 

"  1  haven't  decided  to  go  with  you  yet." 

"  But  you  will ;  it  isn't  in  your  heart  to  crush 

the  fond  hopes  of  a  fellow-mortal  unnecessarily." 
"  That  depends  upon  who  the  fellow-mortal  is, 

and  whether  he  is  capahle  of  lx;ir»g  crushed.     I 

intended  to  spend  this  forenoon  with  mamma." 
"  Mamma  prefers  you  should  spend  it  with  me." 
"  0-o-o-h  !  "     The  prolonged  exclamation  savored 

of  distrust. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  her  room.  She  is  glad 
there  is  a  happy  day  before  us  both,  and  gave  me 
permission  to  carry  you  off." 

"  Did  one  ever  see  such  a — a — " 
"  Fellow-mortal,"  suggested  Stanton,  but  she  broke 
out  in  another  vein. 

"  Your  fond  hopes  at  least  do  not  intend  to  be 
crushed,  since  they  provide  for  every  contingency." 

"  How  pretty  you  are,  Olive," 

"Your  compliments  do  not  strengthen  your 
cause,  Mr.  Cartwright." 

"  Not  they.  My  cause  needs  no  strengthening. 
The  crocuses  and  daffodils  under  the  parlor-win- 
dow are  unanswerable  arguments.  There's  a 
robin  by  this  time  in  the  apple-tree  at  Bloomingle, 
and  you  and  I  are  going  to  investigate  his  house- 
building as  well  as  the  old  house  and  buildings." 

"  O,  Stanton,  are  we  going  to  Bloomingle  ?  Is 
it  time  to  think  of  preparing  the  house  ?  When 
will  mamma  be  strong  enough  to  be  moved?" 


smmmOKatma^mam 


^ipp 


124 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


for<jettiiig  her  dudgeon  in  delight,  as  slie  fairly 
danced  U[)  and  down  in  front  of  tliu  young  man. 

A  mischievous  gk^am  shot  through  the  orown 
eyes.  "  You  and  I  are  going  out  there  to  recon- 
noiter  this  very  morning,  Princess.  VViiich  means 
just  thirty  minutes  in  which  to  catch  the  train. 
We'll  talk  over  mamma's  removal  on  the  way; 
the  doctor's  favor  it  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  You  blessed  lM)y  1  I'll  bo  ready  in  five  minutes." 

And  two  paiiu  of  eyes  met  smilingly  as  the  slight 
figure  whirled  out  of  the  room.  The  smile  on  two 
faces  broadened  until  it  dropped  in  a  laugh  from 
the  lips  of  one  as  her  happy  voice  came  back  to 
them  in  snatches  of  song.  "  Is  she  not  worthy  of 
nil  love?"  asked  the  brown  eyes  looking  up  in- 
quiringly. "  Yes,  to  one  strong  enough  and 
patient  enough  to  win  and  mould  her,"  answered 
the  gray. 

"I  am  able,"  said  the  deep,  rich  voice  of  th« 
young  man,  answering  the  unspoken  answer.  And 
the  clear,  earnest,  speaking  eyes  swept  him  over 
comprehensively  ere  the  lips  replied  :  "  I  Ixjlieve 
you  are."     So  Lenore  Inicame  Stanton's  conlidante. 

It  was  a  delicious  day,  every  breeze  a  caress,  so 
tender  and  so  loving  was  it.  The  sun  wai  in,  not 
hot,  spread  a  golden  glory  all  around ;  the  sky 
blue  and  cloudless,  crowned  the  budding  green  of 
tree  and  field,  as  these  two  set  out  together. 
Nothing  could  dampen  their  ardor,  even  the  dust 
and  the  heat  of  the  cai-s  were  delightful  because  a 
necessary  part  of  their  outing. 


"  ■.'BR'y»H9*!?.3n5r:'' 


3SS 


',''»'■: 


„  JR. 

it,  as  si  10  fairly 

Migh  tlio  oiown 

tliore  to  rt'coii- 

VVIiich  111011118 

nitcli   the  tmiii. 

I  on  tlio  Wiiy; 
hible." 

II  (ivo  minutes." 
gly  as  the  slight 
'ho  smile  on  two 

ill  a  laugh  from 
13  camo  hack  to 
10  not  worthy  of 

looking  u|)  in- 
g    enough    and 

her,"  answered 

ch  voice  of  th-a 
!n  answer.  And 
swept  him  over 
ied  :  "  I  lielieve 
ton's  conndaiito. 
oezo  a  caress,  so 
10  sun  waini,  not 
.round ;  the  sky 
•udding  green  of 
t  out  together. 
)r,  even  the  dust 
ghtful  because  a 


"  /  DON'T  LIKE  QUESTIONS." 


125 


The  old  house,  how  good  it  looked !  Olive  mn 
hitluT  and  thither  among  the  hedges  and  trees 
hunting  for  hirds'-nest^,  laughing  in  a  very  tremor 
of  delight,  when  Stanton's  i.r..i)hecy  proved  true 
and  two  gre-it  robins  Hew  out  of  the  apitle-tree. 

"  Oh,  you  darlings  1 "  she  cried,  "  you  are  the 
very  same  that  were  here  bust  year.  I  kiiow  you, 
both.  Are  you  ghid  littlo  mamma  will  be  hero 
again  to  feed  you  tliii  summer?  " 

She  followed  Stanton  into  the  house,  watching, 
while  he  threw  open  blinds  and  windows  and 
dusted  a  chair  for  her  occupancy.  Ho  threw  a 
heavy  shawl  about  her,  declaring  the  house  chilly 
after  being  so  long  shut  up,  bidding  her  sit  quite 
still  until  he  built  a  fire  in  the  open  gmte.  "  Then 
we  will  have  dinner,"  he  said.  Hut  she  followed 
him  out  after  dried  leaves  and  branches  with  which 
to  start  the  blaze,  and  soon  it  was  roaring  ui)  the 
wide-mouthed  chimney,  filling  the  room  with  ita 
cheerful  warmth. 

»'  Isn't  it  nice,  I  lika  picnicking,"  she  laughed,  m 
she  helped  him  prepare  lunch,  dictating  over  the 
setting  of  the  plates  and  cups.  It  was  a  merry 
meal.  Afterwards  they  went  for  wild-fiowers, 
returning  in  time  for  a  rest  and  talk  before  start- 
ing for  the  train. 

"  I  hate  to  go  back  to  the  city,"  she  said,  "  I 
wish  mamma  waa  coming  to-morrow,  don't  you, 

Stanton?" 

"  Yes,  dear,"  ho  answered  abstmctedly.     lie 


«>. 


.i»5W»«^85'«.*iMIMmi  W»g<  i;iBa«!»l»aiWM>>i.'  iW«»a***a*l«<»fc»rt»t«Mi«irfi*" 


mm 


V->6 


IlKHliKHT  a  Mi  I)  K  SELL,  JR. 


li  I 


was  tl  iiikiiip  lliiit  tlie  diiy  was  most  gone,  nnd  tlie 
avowal  III!  had  planned  unmade. 

"  What  makes  you  80  dull?"  she  asked,  detect- 
\\\'^  the  preoccupation  of  this  slave  of  her  every 
whim.     "  Is  anything  the  matter?" 

"  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you,  Olive,"  he 
answered  seriously. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't,"  she  cried,  taking 
instant  alarm. 

**  But  I  must;  I  came  on  purpose  to  ask  it." 

*'  I  wish  I  had  known  that,  I  would  have 
stayed  at  home." 

"  Olive,  why  do  5'ou  think  I  came  to  New  York 
this  spring  ?  " 

To  help  us,"  she  answered  naively. 
But  I  didn't  know  you  were  in  trouble  until  I 
got  here." 

"  No.  I  never  thought  of  that.  Stanton,  you 
didn't  come  on  purpose — on  purpose — "  patheti- 
cally. 

"  Yes,  on  purpose — on  purpose,"  he  replied 
laughingly. 

"  Oil,  I  hoped  that  was  so  far  off  1  You  won't 
make  me  say  yes  ?  "  imploringly. 

"  I  will  not  make  you  do  anything  you  do  not 
wish,  Olive.  Am  I  in  the  habit  of  compelling 
you  against  yo'  "  'viU  ?  " 

"  You've  hal  your  own  way  since  you  came;  I 
know  that.  I  wouldn't  have  come  to-day  only 
you  made  me." 


'  i!itiiutK(3«ae«ui«»w-a«»i»wMe^<>'MBtw«^ 


■■■i 


,  .in. 

U  gone,  and  the 

le  askod,  detect- 
ve  of  lii-r  every 

pu,   Olive,"    liti 

J    cried,    taking 

He  to  ank  it." 
I   would    have 

ne  to  New  York 

vely. 

1  trouble  until  I 

;.     Stanton,  you 
)ose — "  putheti- 

le,"    he    replied 

iff  I     You  won't 

linpr  you  do  not 
t  of  compelling 

ce  you  came;  I 
me   to-day  only 


"/  DOST  LIKK  Ql^KSTlOSS." 


127 


»•  What  I  Olive,  didn't  you  want  to  visit 
Hloominglo?" 

"  YeH,  I  did,  but  I  wanted  junt  an  much  not  to 
conu)  with  you." 

"  Honor  bright,  little  girl,"  looking Hteadily  into 
hur  eve«,  "  Were  you  not  glad  of  an  excuao  to  put 
aside  your  displeasure?" 

"  Perhaps,"  she  admitted,  liis  glance  confusing 
her. 

And    why   did    you    hold   any  such   feeling 
against  me?     Was  tliere  reason  for  it?" 

"  No,  there  was  not,"  she  answeied  frankly, 
after  a  minute  of  silence  while  ho  waited  gnively 
her  reply.  "  You  and  papa  had  sometiiing  lajtweeu 
you  that  you  did  not  tell  me,  and  I  wanted  to  pay 
you  for  your  lack  of  confidence." 

'•  Olive,  what  a  daughter  of  Eve  you  are  I  " 

"  I  don't  see  as  I  'an  help  that,  being  born  a 
woman.  And  it  isn't  manly  of  you  to  twit  me  of 
my  sex,  as  I  did  not  choose  it." 

"  True,"  laughing.  "  Esi)ecially  when  I  wouldn't 
have  you  any  different  for  the  world.  It  is  de- 
lightful to  have  you  so  interested  in  all  that  con- 
cerns me." 

How  he  made  everything  serve   his   purpose  1 

"  I'm  not  sure  I  am,"  she  declared  with  spirit. 

"  I  am,"  he  replied.  "  And,  Olive,  if  you  will 
answer  my  question  as  I  wish,  I  will  answer  any 
number  of  questions  you  may  put  me,  whatever 
the  subject." 

"  Will  you  ?  "  eagerly.    "  Oh,  Stanton,  I'd  like 


ixt** 


128 


HERBERT  GARLENELL,  JR. 


I;:i'^ 


to,  only  I'm  afraid  I  can't,  your  question  is  one  I 
must  not  answer." 

"  Only  five  words  and  easy  to  undeistand, 
Olive.     Will  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 

'•  I  can't.  Oh,  Stanton,  I  truly  can't,"  in  evident 
distress.  "  It's  mean  of  you  to  ask  me.  It  is  for 
Herbert's  sake  I've  been  good  to  you,  and  loved 
you,  and  now  you  want  to  take  me  away  from 
him,  and  papa  and  mamma.  I  cannot  go,  and  it 
isn't  kind  of  you  to  ask  me." 

"  Perhaps  it  isn't."  From  his  soul  this  young 
man,  whose  face  showed  how  deeply  he  had  been 
hurt,  admitted  the  truth  of  her  arraignment. 

The  girl  took  one  swift  glance  at  the  face  that 
bad  paled  in  spite  of  all  self-control  and  hid  her 
own  in  her  hands.  "  I  hate  questions.  They 
spoil  all  the  good  times.  Why  couldn't  things 
go  on  as  they  are  forever  ?  "  she  moaned. 

He  had  been  premature.  The  flower  of  love,  as 
every  other  flower,  must  take  its  own  time  in  which 
to  mature.  Had  he  been  trying  to  force  its  growth  ? 
Because  the  perfume  and  color  of  full  bloom  and 
fruitage  enriched  his  own  heart,  had  he  reason  to 
demand  it  in  another?  No.  Hewaswiong.  He 
should  have  waited,  would  wait,  and  trouble  her 
no  more.  They  would  go  back  to  the  old  pleasant 
life.     She  shonid  be  unmolested,  unafraid. 

Something  of  this  he  said  to  her.  And  she 
listened,  hardly  hearing,  but  realizing  through  all 
her  being  that  she  had  failed,  not  him  alone,  but 
herself,  since  she  could  not  measure  up  to  the  ex- 


,'«'«S6.;««.!'ii'S*s«;«iKW«v'4sare\vi?Si***.ii9«ai*^^ 


JR. 
iiestion  is  one  I 

to    undeistiiiid, 

n't,"  in  evidcMit 

me.     It  is  for 

you,  and  loved 

nie  away  from 

nnot  go,  and  it 

oul  this  young 

ly  he  had  been 

ilgnment. 

t  the  face  that 

rol  and  hid  her 

lestions.     They 

couldn't  tilings 

oaned. 

ower  of  love,  as 

:n  time  in  which 

orce  its  growth  ? 

full  bloom  and 
ad  he  reason  to 
vas  wrong.  He 
^nd  tiouble  her 
tiie  old  pleasant 
n afraid. 

her.  And  she 
ing  through  all 

him  alone,  but 
re  up  to  the  ex- 


'7  DON'T  LIKE  QUESTIONS:' 


129 


pectation  of  this  perfect  love,  this  perfect  maiv- 
hood.  If  he  did  not  win  his  answer,  he  at  least 
won  her  deepest  homage.  If  she  could  not  give 
as  he  had  asked,  as  he  had  given,  she  appreciated 
in  that  hour  the  magnitude  of  the  gift  offered  her 
acceptance. 

Her  before-time  friend,  with  all  the  fascination 
liih  grace  and  wit  and  worth  had  ever  had  upon 
her,  never  approached  the  man  whr  to-day  opened 
his  heart  to  her  so  freely  and  in  such  tender 
solicitude,  not  for  his  own  welfare,  but  her  com- 
fort. She  was  convicted  that  afternoon  of  such 
•weakness,  selfishness,  unworthiness,  that  she  won- 
dered, not  that  she  had  rejected  him — there  was 
nothing  else  for  such  as  her  to  do  with  such  an 
offer — but  that  he  had  ever  thought  it  possible  she 
could  understand  him  or  his  destiny. 

That  far-away  shore  and  its  teeming  millions 
were  reality  to  him,  a  life  of  self-sacrifice  among 
them,  not  heroism,  not  matter-of-fact  duty,  but 
liappy,  natural  choice,  since  they  needed  him. 
The  danger,  the  self-abnegation,  tl-  daily  cru- 
cifixion, seemed  never  to  have  i.r-^  ressed  him 
until  now  whe  he  looked  at  them  in  their  re- 
lation to  another.  His  tender,  humble  acknowl- 
edgment that  he  had  not  weighed  all  these 
sufficiently,  or  the  separation  from  her  dear  ones, 
before  thus  spe?^king,  touched  her  profoundly. 
She  had  done  just  right,  he  said.  Out  of  her  heart 
and  the  facte  she  had  spoken,  and  he  thanked  her. 
And  only  -ne  thing  could  grieve  him  now,  and 
9 


:  ..TaMBKK/wafflwssiFa 


«jaJ8»ipi»>:^«aiTfcac«!*ra«5*i?B!!W».'<««**^^ 


trt 


180 


UERBEKT  OAIWENELL,  JR. 


i>\M 


that  to  know  she  grieved  or  let  any  word  ho  had 
spoken  or  any  thought  of  him  trouble  her. 

Then  he  busied  iiiniself  in  stirring  up  the  coals 
to  toast  seme  bread,  playing  cook  once  more,  de- 
claring they  had  time  for  a  rustic  supper,  and  then 
farewell  to  Bloomingle. 

But  all  his  biuiter  and  gentle  acts  of  love  only 
deepened  the  wound  in  her  heart.  "  Farewell ! " 
She  felt  a  chill  come  with  the  word,  playfully  as  it 
was  uttered.  Where  would  he  be  when  she  was 
enjoying  the  pleasures  of  this  summer  resort? 

Slie  ate  but  a  sorry  supper  in  spite  of  his  cheer, 
and  sat  quietly  passive  while  he  packed  up  the 
goods  and  sat  down  at  the  organ  in  a  last  effort  at 
raising  her  spirits,  to  sing  a  class  song  Herbeit  and 
he  had  often  rendered  for  her  amusement.  At  last 
they  must  go.  He  rose  and  walked  toward  her 
with  her  cloak  and  hat  in  his  hand,  ready  to  help 

them  on.  .      ^^ 

"  You  must  not  feel  so  badly  over  this,  Olive, 
he  said,  the  sorrow  of  her  face  smiting  him  sorely. 
» I  shall  not  forgive  you  if  you  upbraid  youreelf. 
I  am  not  so  badly  off  after  all,  since  I  may  still 
love  you.     You  are  willing  I  should  do  that,  are 

you  not  ?  " 

"1  should  feel  dreadfully  if  you  didn't,"  she 
whispered  from  under  the  hand  over  her  eyes. 

"  Thank  you,  and  never  feel  dreadfully,  OUie, 
for  I  shall  always  love  you  first  and  best." 

"  But  you  think  me  very  unkind  and  mean  ?" 

"Not  I.     Why  should  1?     For  telling  me  the 


-^'.^3*3*^-^«^*^^^''--^SJs-*iiV<;  :*;J^,iiK?i3>:^8^^t%M    ■s«AiT*y*i1.KMt\i***.*i^WwtSat'ii'w-^iaAgASSC^ 


tf 


:^UietWl¥Q^^\, 


Tli. 

y  word  ho  had 
lo  her. 

g  up  the  coals 
>iice  more,  de- 
j)per,and  then 

8  of  love  only 
"  Farewell ! " 

playfully  as  it 
when  she  was 
icr  resoit? 

e  of  his  cheer, 
packed  up  the 

a  last  effoit  at 
ng  Herbci-t  and 
jnient.  At  last 
ied  toward  her 

,  ready  to  help 

er  this,  Olive," 
ting  him  sorely, 
pbraid  youreelf. 
nee  I  may  still 
uld  do  that,  are 

ou  didn't,"  she 
er  her  eyes, 
readfully,  OUie, 
d  best." 
[i  and  mean  ? 
r  telling  me  the 


» 


I 


I 


,W^,5"/Cs»4MKi>  «^i*.-^-*'Mv;»4.^^»»  .(•.v-*»»i'-r.'^ 


r 


(  li 


"I  DON'T  LIKE  QUESTIONS.' 


181 


tnith  ?    I  wouldn't  have  you  do  otherwise.     Are  ■ 
you  to  blame  for  not  loving  me  any  more  than  I 
am  for  loving  you?" 

"  I  did  not  say  I  didn't  love  you,  Stanton,"  this 
from  the  voice  behind  the  hand. 

"  No,  pardon  me.  I  simply  meant  not  loving 
me  as  I  wished,  as  I  love  you.  Some  day,  dear,  you 
will  love  some  man  just  so  dearly.  Then  you  will 
understand  why  I  dared  make  such  a  proposal ; 
then  you  will  not  consider  it  too  hard  a  thing  to 
do  when  he  asks  you  to  be  his  wife." 

"  He  never  shall,"  eyes  flashing  wide  up  to  his, 
hand  falling  to  her  lap.  "  I  shall  hate  him  if  he 
does.  I  shall  never  love  anybody  as  well  as  I  do 
you,  never  anybody  but  just  Herbert  and  papa."  :■. 
A  smile  broadened  over  the  gentleman's  face.  . 
Was  ever  stranger  wooing  than  this  ?  Ever  more 
inscrutable  maiden. 

"  So  much,"  he  said,  "  Well,  I  am  glad,  and  jet 
hardly  enough  to  foraake  all  for  me  ?  "  a  suggestion 
of  questioning  in  his  voice. 

"  No,"  gravely,  hesitatingly,  "  I  do  not  love  you 
as  I  ought,  I  do  not  adore  you,  Stanton,"  stammer- 
ing guilelessly.  And  by  a  mighty  effort  the 
young  man  held  his  face  imperturbably  grave  as 
she  looked  up  with  her  troubled  eyes.  How  fort- 
unate that  a  moment  after  he  could  step  behind 
her  to  arrange  her  cloak  and  give  vent  to  that 
wicked  smile  that  was  clamoring  for  expression ! 

He  stooped  f;o  lay  those  smiling  lips  on  her  shin- 
ing ciown  ere  he  placed  the  dainty  hat  over  it. 


w 


WP^IPP 


tEillHliWri*T'''''i*'*"'''*"' 


;»i«*W»*i*l*»t*s«w 


*^. 


182 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


i    .-       it'- 


"  I  wouldn't  worry,  dear,"  he  said  soothingly. 
"  You  aie  not  responsible  for  the  impossible,  and 
God  will  bring  it  all  riglit."  And,  overcome  by 
his  tender  sympathy,  she  threw  both  arms  about 
his  neck  and  sobbed  out  on  his  bosom  the  distress 
slie  had  tried  to  conquer. 

"  There,"  she  said  at  last,  lifting  her  head. 
"  You  have  been  my  brother  so  long,  my  second 
Herbert,  that  I  cannot  give  you  up  or  yet  be 
proper  with  you,  even  when  I  have  to  refuse  you 
and  cannot  be  all  you  wish  me  to  be.  You  will 
have  to  forgive  me  and  forget  me  if  you  can." 

"  Impossible,"  he  answered  gayly,  "  and  unthink- 
able. But  we  will  have  to  make  quick  time  un- 
less we  intend  to  remain  at  Bloomingle  over 
night" 


f    .i 


l''l 


i  ,' 


1 


W- 


-lf.*-A«!iViKJ,4A-i.    i 


III. 


fiooit-nrs. 


188 


id  soothingly, 
nipossible,  nixl 
overcome  by 
th  iirma  about 
>tn  the  distress 

ing  her  head, 
tig,  my  Becond 
up  or  yet  be 
i  to  refuse  you 
be.  You  will 
you  can." 
"  and  unthink- 
uiok  time  un- 
3omingle  over 


nk'&-. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

GOOD-BYE. 

"  "TIb  only  when  we  dare  not  hope 
That  wo  are  truly  poor." 

It  was  a  very  silent  ride  home.  Stanton  tried 
to  avoid  Olive's  eyes  when  he  saw  his  glance 
troubled  her.  He  attempted  to  interest  her  in 
what  was  passing,  but  gave  it  up  after  a  few  futile 
endeavors.  He  had  brought  sorrow  to  this  child- 
woman,  whom  he  had  truly  desired  only  to  bless, 
and  his  sympathetic  heart  ached. 

He  chided  himself  severely.  Ho  had  not  been 
right  to  think  of  taking  her  from  such  a  home 
as  here  to  such  a  work  as  his,  teeming  with  hard- 
ships and  peril.  After  all,  was  not  his  a  selfish 
'ove  !  Selfish  love  !  What  a  contradiction  of  terms. 
His  heart  said  "  No  "  emphatically  to  this  sugges- 
tion. He  loved  this  girl  so  truly,  so  unselfishly 
that  to  be  sure  he  could  not  take  her  with  him, 
was  almost  relief  in  spite  of  his  disappointment. 

Disappointment!  He  had  heard  somewhere 
that  the  letter  H  put  in  the  place  of  the  D  gave  the 
correct  rendering  of  this  word.    Not  disappoint- 


jBMiiWI'QBifiiiMliit^Wffl"^''^^^"*^^'^ 


% 


mU 


II  ini  iiAiMlr-iliii  JwiiI'itW 


Mnii^^ 


184 


UEUBKltT  UAIWKNELL,  Jit. 


i*^' 


mt-.nt  but  His  appoiiitment.  This  consecrated 
Christian  liad  no  doubt  that  this  maiden's  nay 
was  for  him  (iod's  appointment  and  therefore  best. 
Was  it  God's  appointment  also  that  to  this  bright 
young  life  pain  and  questioning  should  come 
tiirough  him  ?  This  was  harder  to  believe,  harder 
to  accept. 

They  found  Miss  Erdley  waiting  to  be  relieved 
that  she  might  return  home.  She  asked  after  their 
day,  and  SUinton  answered  her.  He  helped  Olive 
off  with  her  wraps  and  put  Ihem  away,  ojieningthe 
door  for  Lenore  and  bidding  her  a  quiet  "  good- 
night." 

When  ho  returned  to  the  parlor  Olive  was  gone. 
A  few  momenta  after,  pausing  before  Mrs.  Garde- 
nell's  door,  about  to  enter,  he  heard  the  maiden's 
voice.  She  was  talking  about  Bloomingle,  trying 
to  give  her  mother  some  idea  of  its  springing 
beauty,  but  all  the  spring  seemed  goi.e  out  of  her 
young  voice. 

He  passed  on  to  the  study.  Mr.  Gardenell  was 
not  there.  He  had  time  for  a  quiet  hour  of  thought 
and  prayer,  and  a  retrospect  of  the  afternoon's 
convei'sation.  It  had  its  comic  side  and  he  ap- 
preciated it.  In  spite  of  his  pain  he  smiled  there 
alone  in  the  dusk. 

"Anybody  here?"  Mr.  Gardenell  touched  the 
electric  button  as  he  spoke,  and  a  tall  young  man 
stai-ted  up  under  the  flashing  light. 

"  Well  ?  "  There  was  a  question  in  the  little  word 
as  it  dropped  from  the  gentleman's  mouth,  as  Stanton 


■■■•■■■■■^H 


Ills  consecrated 
nmiden*H  nay 
therefore  bcHt. 

t  to  this  bright 
should    come 

believe,  harder 

to  1)6  relieved 
sked  after  their 
e  hel|jed  Olive 
iiy,  o])eningthe 
quiet  "  good' 

)live  was  gone, 
i-e  Mrs.  Garde- 
d  the  niaiden'i) 
)niingle,  trying 
f  its  springing 
joi.e  out  of  her 

Gardenell  was 
hour  of  thought 
the  afternoon's 
de  and  he  ap- 
s  smiled  there 

ill  touched  the 
all  young  man 

1  the  little  word 
nith,  asStitnton 


GOOD-RYE. 

Cartwright,  ivith  the  reflection  of  his  recent  smile 
still  on  his  lips,  stood  before  him. 

" '  I  do  not  love  you  as  I  ought,  I  do  not  adore 
you,  Stanton.'  "  With  a  gleam  of  irresistible  humor 
the  youth  repeated  Olive's  very  words  in  her  very 
tone. 

"  My  poor  girlie  !  she  is  a  btiby  yet,  at  least  in 
heart,"  said  her  father.  "  Really,  I  don't  see  as 
you  can  do  any  better  than  let  her  grow  awhile." 
And  then  both  men  seized  each  other's  shoulders 
and,  standing  at  arms' length,  laughed  till  the  teais 
stood  in  their  eyes,  the  position  was  so  droll  in 
spite  of  \\»  pathos. 

And  at  that  very  moment  Olive  was  sitting  dis- 
consolately and  alone  in  her  chamber,  shedding 
teai-s  over  the  pitiableness  of  her  position. 

"  It  is  mean  of  Stanton  Cartwright  to  think  I 
can  give  up  everylwdy  for  him.  Why  can't  a  man 
be  content  with  his  own  sistera  and  not  l)e  after 
other  people's  ?  "  With  a  wicked  little  flash  of  in- 
dignation. "  Oh,  dear,  I  hate  to  hurt  his  feelings, 
for  he  is  just  the  best  man  I  ever  knew  exce[)t 
Herbert,  and  I'm  afraid  he  is  very  miserable.  I'm 
sure  I  am,  and  I  suppose  I've  really  jilted  him. 
What  an  awful  word  1  I  never  intended  to  do  such 
a  thing  as  that.  And  Stanton,  jilt  Stanton ! " 
Another  little  weep.  What  a  pity  she  could  not 
have  seen  those  two  strong  men  laughing  unto 
tears  over  the  ludicrousness  of  her  jilting  I 

Olive  was  quite  prepared  to  see  a  broken-hearted 
youth  the  next  moniing  at  table.    She  had  thought 


li.iil>iifr"i  ■"  ' '"    '^ '•''''''' ■"' 


•<M!ai£wnt£^~ 


ISO 


iikuhkut  r.AitUKSELL,  .in. 


f 


HO  much  <)v«r  llio  nffair  that  hIio  quite  dreatleil  to 
descend  to  tlio  break faht^rooin,  and  sat  quite  a 
while  suunuouing  up  courage  for  the  trying  ordeal. 
And  there  was  Stanton,  his  very  self.  Hright, 
scflf-poHHCHsed,  with  not  a  melancholy  or  reproachful 
glance.  Slic  might  have  doubted  yestenlay  luwl 
ever  been  but  for  his  pleiwant  talk  with  her  father 
alwut  tlie  liouse  and  garden.  She  concluded  the 
gentleman  did  not  care  so  nmch  for  her  after  all. 

As  she  entered  the  sitting-room  after  prayers, 
she  caught  bits  of  a  conversation  that  made  her 
dubious. 

"  You  think  you  must  go  immediately  ?  "  This 
from  her  father. 

"  Yes,  sir,  unless  I  can  serve  you  by  remaining, 
I  think  I  had  betterstart  to-morrow.  I  would  like 
to  see  Mi-s.  Gardenell  safelv  at  Bloomingdalo  be- 
fore going  away,  but  as  it  is  not  yet  certain  when 
she  can  be  moved,  duty  seems  to  call  elsewhere." 

"Going!"  Olive's  face  and  heart  fell,  she  re- 
sorted to  her  father  ere  long. 

"  Papa,  what  mak.s  you  let  Stanton  go  away  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  darling,  wo  cannot  always  claim  his 
time.  Ho  has  his  work  to  do  in  the  world,  and 
must  prepare  for  it." 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  we — )'ou  can  get  along 
without  him  and  Herbert  gone." 

"  I  hardly  see  myself,  dear,  but  we  must  not  be 
selfish.  I  am  grateful  to  God  for  loaning  him  to 
us  so  long.  Only  He  knows  what  it  has  meant 
to  have  him  with  us  these  past  days." 


I<  W. 


I  Hi  Ml 


■■  iii!%aB^!^iwtfiit'aTaHhiiiyiTjferii«iii& 


..^mmA^mmMmm 


miiiMitiYfiHiwa 


Jit. 


(iOOD-HYK. 


1S7 


i'.to  (Ireadud  to 
id   Hiit   qui*e  a 

16  tiding  ordeal. 
Hclf.     Hriglit, 

y  or  i-c]irniiuliful 
yt'steitluy  litwl 
with  licr  father 
coticliided  the 

r  Iter  after  all. 

I  after  prayers, 
that  made  her 

lately  ?  "     This 

1  by  remaining, 
V.  I  would  like 
looniingdiilo  be- 
at certain  when 
til  elsewhere." 
art  fell,  she  re- 

iton  go  away  ?  " 
Iways  claim  his 
the  world,  and 

u  can  get  along 

we  must  not  be 
loaning  him  to 
at  it  hits  meant 


"  Keep  him  a  little  longer,  jwipa,  please.  You 
ciiii.  I  heard  hi'n  say  he  would  stay  if  you  needed 
him." 

"  Do  I  need  him,  Olive  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes  ;  don't  you,  papa  ?" 

"  SupjKwe  1  turn  the  question  over  vo  you,  little 
daiighter.  Of  course  you  do  iiot  need  SUmton. 
A  man  who  could  so  selfishly  inuigino  a  young 
lady  might  give  up  father  and  mother  for  a  place 
by  his  side  i  " 

Her  face  flushed,  she  hid  it  on  her  father's  arm. 
"  Papa,  it  does  seem  a  great  demand  for  any  man 
to  make." 

"  It  does,  indeed.  Too  great,  dear,  where  love 
does  not  warrant  it.  But  I  asked  as  much  of  a 
woman  once  and  was  not  denied." 

She  looked  up  shyly  into  his  face,  a  mingling 
of  curiosity  and  surprise  on  her  own.  "  Oh,  mamma 
you  mean.  How  strangely  it  sounds,  as  if  she 
could  have  ever  been  anything  but  mamma.  It 
seems  as  if  she   must  always   liave    belonged   to 

you." 

"  She  did,  but  it  was  years  before  I  found  lier, 
and,  Olive,  she  wivs  neither  angry  or  dismayed  be- 
cause I  recognized  her  as  my  soul's  best  self." 

The  maiden  was  silent  a  moment,  her  face  hidden 


aj,ain. 


You  are  different,"  she  whispered  presently, 
"  you  are  Papa  Gardenell,  and  have  a  right  to  ask 
and  take." 

"  I  was  not   Papa    Gardenell  then,"    was   tho 


■^.& 


.  liii  i'-f  •^^^- ■■  i^.fe':^!-:-^ 


mmmmmmmmmm 


i  li 


>i 


'i  I 


las 


nKRHKIlT  O^UDKSKU.,  .III. 


Hiuiliiig  reply,  "  Imt  ii  lieart-lmii^ny  )'oung  man 
v/itli  II  ^rtfiit  hope  and  iv  grciit  fear.  It  ww  your 
ihoUuu'h  '  yeH  '  tliat  crowned  nio  with  fathurluMxl, 
Olivo." 

"  I'm  glad  sho  miid  it,"  anHwerod  a  viny  low 
voice.  "  I  would  never  forgive  her  if  she  hadn't. 
I  hIiouUI  have  hated  any  other  father  hut  you." 

And  then  sho  run  lier  face  clear  in  under  hiii 
chin  and  wet  his  neck  with  her  tears,  Ixjcause  ho 
laughed  at  such  a  ridiculous  speech,  as  who  would 
not. 

And  Stanton  went  away,  his  hright,  frank  face 
unclouded,  his  honest  hrown  eyes  looking  straight 
into  hei-s  as  ho  said  "  good-hye." 

"  If  you  ever  feel  like  changing  your  mind,  Ollie, 
just  write  me  a  word  and  make  mo  glad.  Oh,  I 
shall  bo  glad,  even  if  you  don't,"  ho  added,  seeing 
a  shadow  flit  across  her  face.  "  Glad  that  you 
are  your  own  true  self,  loving  truth  too  well  to 
forfeit  it,  even  to  please  your  friend.  You  must  not 
tliiiik  you  liavo  hurt  mo,"  he  went  on,  reading  her 
lieart  letter  than  she  know.  "  See,"  straightening 
his  tall  figure,  and  throwing  back  his  broad 
shouldei-s,  "  I  am  big  and  strong,  and  able  to  bear 
hard  things.  I  covet  them.  I  have  my  mission 
and  my  God,  and,"  his  rich  smile  illuming  all  his 
face,  "  abundance  of  hope.  I  cannot  be,  I  am  not 
discoui-aged  or  dismayed.  When  I  ask  in  God's 
will,  I  always  expect  an  answer  in  His  time.  I 
can  wait." 

Tlien  he  was  gone,  his  kiss  on  her  face,  over 


»-  'mgmmm&im^  mmam^',.- 


Jit. 

'jy  j'ounjf  man 
r.  It  WW  your 
ith   fiilliurluKxl, 

n;<l  li  very  low 
r  if  hIiu  liiubrt. 
cr  liiit  you." 
ir  in  uiiilur  liin 
iirs,  buuiiiiHu  liu 
1,  iiH  who  would 

iglit,  friviik  face 
looking  Htriiight 

our  mind,  Ollie, 
nu  glad.     Oh,  I 

e  added,  seeing 

Glad  that  you 
ith  too  well  to 
.  YoumuHtnot 
t  on,  reading  her 
5,"  straightening 
back  his  broad 
ind  able  to  liear 
ave  my  mission 

illuming  all  hiy 
lot  be,  I  am  not 

I  ask  in  God's 
in  His  time.     I 


1  her  face,  over 


nnon-BYK. 


189 


whitih  tears  Btreamed  so  fast,  she  could  scarcely 
follow  his  form  down  the  street.  How  grand, 
how  manly  lie  w.is.  Never  b«)foro  had  ho  seemed 
such  a  hero  in  her  eyen.  Straight  on  he  stKxle ; 
woidd  he  not  turn,  look  back  once?  lie  rea«;hed 
the  corner,  another  moment  and  he  would  Iw  out 
of  sight.  Breathlessly  she  .vaited  for  one  farewell 
glance.  Yes,  it  cam.;.  His  smile,  flung  back  like 
a  sunl)eam,  made  a  raiid)ow  of  her  teaiu.  It 
seemed  to  her  as  if  lightning  flashed  from  hia 
eyes  to  hers.  Before  nh^  couhl  answer  it,  wits  re- 
covered from  the  shock  of  it,  he  wrs  gone,  but  he 
had  left  behind  him  something  of  himself  hidden 
in  th(!  deepest  depths  of  her  heart. 

Strange,  but  the  fear  that  she  had  wronged 
him,  the  haunting  uneasiness,  the  consciousness  of 
pain  and  heaviness  went  out  of  her  with  the  in- 
coming of  that  smile.  His  prayer  was  answered, 
she  was  comforted  md  he  had  comforted  her.  She 
would  miss  him,  oh,  so  much,  so  constantly,  think 
of  him  every  liour  of  every  day,  reproach  herself 
a  little  sometimes  that  she  had  not  better  appre- 
ciated him.  But  the  weight  was  lifted  from  her 
heart,  the  clouds  scattered,  the  sun  appeared.  Her 
father  wondered  a  little  at  the  radiant  face  she 
lifted  to  his  an  hour  later. 

That  night  she  told  her  father  of  that  smile,  sit- 
ting on  his  lap  and  smoothing  with  her  fingera  his 
graying  hair.  "  He  is  happy,  papa,  really  happy. 
If  i  did  not  know  that,  I  should  l)e  wretched,  but  I 
do  know  it,  I  am  sure  of  it.     Isn't  it  strange  how 


h.V>«1/k«rt«dA 


illiJ 


\  i' 


iVl 


140 


HERBERT  GARDEN KLL,  JR. 


miserably  unhappy  I  was  until  he  was  fairly  gone, 
and  then,  at  the  last  instant,  as  he  disappeared, 
the  burden  went  also,  and  I  felt  satisfied,  assuied 
that  he  did  not  need  me,  was  sufficient  unto  him- 
self." 

Mr.  Gardenell  did  not  undeceive  her.  There 
was  time  enough.  Lot  her  own  heart  reveal  to 
her  its  secret.  That  "golden  smile,"  as  she  called 
it,  would  do  its  own  work,  had  already  begun  it 
Like  begets  like.  Souls  big  with  maternity  re- 
produce their  kind.  From  his  study  window  he 
had  caught  that  parting  glance  and  guessed  its 
object  and  its  source;  he  had  no  doubt  of  its 
mission. 


:y 


; 


'll! 


m 


i>*rj»x&j*   KsTi^alj^  '■H^m.  «i5i'»''~5t*»*'*j!i«i,'s?SAWi 


pippwiwiill|ii<iliiiiiiiiii|wiwpi>'ww^'i»* 


DEEPER  LIFE. 


141 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DEEPER    LIFE. 

"  It  is  the  lives  lll:e  the  stars,  wliich  simply  pour  down  on  us 
the  calm  light  of  their  bright  and  faithful  being,  up  to  which 
we  look  and  out  of  which  we  gather  the  deepest  calm  and  cour- 
age.—Phillips  Bkookb. 

"  His  blessing  comes  not  from  our  woik  and  labor,  but  from 
yielding  ourselves  to  His  will."— Lauler. 

"  Cousin  Herbert,  I  should  like  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  you." 

"  I  know  of  nothing  which  would  delight  nie 
more,"  was  the  reply,  a«  the  young  gentleman 
looked  np  from  the  book  in  his  hand  to  the 
maiden,   who  stood,   half  bashfully,  before  him. 

It  is  kind  of  you  to  wish  to  let  cousin  a  bit 
farther  into  your  life.  1  assure  you  he  appre- 
ciates it." 

He  finds  something  to  appreciate  in  every- 
body," she  replied,  shaking  her  head  smilingly. 
"  I  wonder  if  that  is  the  reason  everybody  appre- 
ciates him?" 

"  Do  they?  Thank  you.  Sit  down  here  beside 
me.  Aunt  Jessie  said  she  would  be  gone  an  hour ; 
that  will  give  us  time  for  a  long  chat,"  seating  her 


«p.>fci»i*wrs';j->- 


142 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


in  a  low  rocker.     "  There,"  dropping  into  an  easy 
chair,  "  now  I  am  ready,  Rea." 

Slie  flushed,  hesitated,  and  finally  burst  out,  "  I 
am  so  little.  Cousin  Herbert." 

He  smiled.  "  Not  an  unpardonable  thing  in  a 
woman.  I  would  hardly  like  to  have  you  as  large 
iis  myself,  Ilea,  though  I  supixwe  I  could  bear 
it." 

She  laughed.  "  Now  you  are  teasing  me,"  she 
said,  "•  and  I  am  very  much  in  earnest.  You  must 
not  make  fun  of  me,  Herbert." 

"  I  will  try  not  to,"  he  answered. 

"  I  am  not  like  you,"  she  began  again,  and  met 
his  smiling  eyes. 

"  Just  what  I  remarked  a  moment  ago.  Let  me 
assure  you  again  that  I  am  glad  of  it." 

She  half  rose  from  her  chair,  "  Shall  I  leave 
you?'  she  asked.  "Am  I,  then,  such  a  bit  of 
folly  that  you  have  no  earnest  words  for  me  ?  " 

"  Indeed  no,"  he  replied,  detaining  her.  "  Teas- 
ing is  one  of  our  family  propensities,  and  has 
grown  by  exercise.  You  seemed  so  much  like 
Olivfl  bemoaning  her  shortcomings,  I  could  not 
deny  myself  the  pleasuie  of  retort.  I  was  always 
the  receptacle  of  her  woes." 

"  Then,  perhaps,  you  will  know  letter  how  to 
deal  with  me,  only  I  want  to  forewarn  you  I  am 
not  in  the  least  like  her." 

"  Oh,  you  are  not !  Pei-liaps  I  am  the  better 
judge  of  that  since  you  never  saw  her  face," 
answered  Herbert. 


swufv*  \>m»mm!^m-A"-  ^ 


L,  JR. 

»ing  into  an  easy 

ly  burst  out,  "  I 

nable  thing  in  a 
lave  you  aa  large 
ie   I   could   bear 

easing  nie,"  she 
'nest.    You  must 

id. 

n  again,  and  met 

ent  ago.  Let  me 
if  it." 

"  Shall  I  leave 
n,  such  a  bit  of 
irds  for  me  ?  " 
ling  her.  "  Teas- 
?nsities,  and  has 
id  80  much  like 
igs,  I  could  not 
t.     I  was  always 

>w  letter  how  to 
rewam  you  I  am 

I  am  the  better 
'  saw  her  face," 


adlMP 


miJilfJilJWiti'iy^'^W 


DEEPER  LIFE. 


148 


"  I  draw  my  conclusions  irom  such  membere  of 
the  famil}'  as  I  have  seen.  She  cannot  be  what  I 
am.  So  insignificant,  untalented, — I  simply  am 
and  do  nothing  I " 

"Except?"  replied  her  listener.  "Who  ia 
mother's  right  hand  and  father's  comfort?  Who 
carries  the  care  of  this  big  house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  such  things — but  they  don't 
count." 

"  Where?"  he  hiquired,  "  here  ?  you  know  how 
they  count  here,  and  they  surely  count  in  heaven, 
little  woman."     He  was  grave  enough  now. 

"But,"  she  hesitated,  "everybody  lives  two 
lives,  the  home  life  and  the  outside  or  woild  life. 
Of  courae  I  am  necessary  to  father  and  mother  and 
the  girls.  But  the  world,  or  even  this  village, 
what  do  I  do  for  them?  What  can  I  do  for 
either?  I  wonder  and  wonder.  I  look  the  ground 
over  carefully,  but  I  haven't  one  talent." 

"  Really  ?  "  asked  Herbert  in  pretended  aston- 
ishment, for  she  was  near  to  tears.  "  H  this  is 
true,  Rea,  there  is  nothing  required  of  you.  But 
you  are  the  firet  person  I  ever  found  so  situated." 

«  Well,"  she  admitted  brokenly,  "  at  least  my 
talents  must  be  very  small." 

"  Let  me  remind  you  of  the  words  of  our  Lord  : 
♦  Do  ye  not  yet  understand,  neither  remember  the 
five  loaves  of  the  five  thousand,  and  how  many 
baskets  ye  took  up  ?  Neither  the  seven  loaves  of 
the  four  thousand,  and  how  many  baskets  ye  took 
up?  '     Can  you  have  less,  comparatively  speaking, 


ri-'aiiaftBW*'^'***  *■  .^.».  * 


oMi^i.'^ 


m 


ip^^ 


^\-i 


V¥^--.'^i^.W^-S^' 


144 


UEUBKUT  GARDENELL,  Jit 


u 


tlian  seemed   those   loaves  and  fishes  before  the 
multitude  that  waited  for  bread?" 

"  But  Jesus  was  there." 

"  And  is  He  not  liere  ?"  lie  asked  gently. 

"  Not  just  the  same  way,  Cousin  Herbert." 

"  Hut  as  truly,  surely." 

"To  you?  Yes.  That  is  what  troubles  me. 
Not  that  you  have  Him — His  very  presence — but — 
that  I  have  not,  Herbert."  She  lifted  her  tearful 
eyes  to  his.  "  I  cannot  recall  any  one  conversation 
you  have  had  since  comiiig  to  us  such  as  people 
would  call  religious,  but  you  are  never  near,  in  the 
room  or  even  house,  but  that  every  one  feels  tenderer, 
holier,  nearer  heaven  and  God,  realize  not  only  the 
truth  of  His  love  and  care  but  His  presence,  Him- 
self, nigh  at  hand  and  not  afa-  off." 

"  I  should  be  sad  to  know  it  could  be  otherwise," 
he  made  gentle  reply,  "  for  He  is  ever  with  me." 

"  I  know  it,  everybody  knows  it.  Your  presence 
brings  Him  near.  John  our  hired  man  tacitly  ad- 
mitted as  much  the  other  day.  'I  declare,'  he 
said,  looking  after  you  with  such  love  and  rever- 
ence in  his  eyes  as  no  one  ever  saw  there  before. 
'  I  declare  the  angels  tliemselves  would  want  to 
waalu their  feathers  when  he  was  around.'" 

"  I  am  only  a  sinner  washed  myself,"  said  he 
humbly.  "  God  forbid  I  should  ever  come  between 
the  vision  of  my  fellows  and  their  God.  He  ought 
to  meet  men  first  in  every  conseci-ated  life." 

"  You  need  not  fear,"  she  answered  quickly. 
"  None  so  ignorant  but  he  must  know  your  life  is 


mm»mm»jmmmimm 


t  troubles  me. 
resence — but — 
ted  her  tearful 
»e  conversation 
such  as  people 
vernear,  in  the 
e  feels  tenderer, 
ize  not  only  the 
presence,  Him- 

l  be  otherwise," 
ver  with  me." 

Your  presence 
man  tacitly  ad- 
'  I  declare,'  he 
love  and  rever- 
Y  there  before, 
would  want  to 
ound.'" 
yself,"  said  he 
sr  come  between 
Tod.  He  oug'it 
ted  life." 
wered  quickly, 
now  your  life  is 


DEEPER  LIFE. 


145 


something  beside  the  product  of  human  endeavor. 
Even  I  know  that  there  can  be  no  life  of  power 
without  a  God  within  it." 

"  Amen,"  said  Heibert. 

"  But  this  is  what  troubles  me,  Herbert,  I  too 
am  a  sinner  w?vshed  and  forgiven  :  Yet  my  life  has 
no  such  power  to  either  attract  or  help  ;  the  hidden 
spring  is  not  in  it." 

"  Perhaps  because  you  w.ashed  only  your  sin  and 
not  youi-self  in  the  Blood,"  he  replied  tenderly. 
"  There  is  great  difference  between  the  two  things, 
Rea,  and  both  are  necessary  to  highest  results.  If 
I  had  not  long  since  handed  over  self  to  Christ  for 
crucifixion  your  words  could  only  have  done  me 
harm  this  afternoon.  But  as  it  is  I  glorify  God  who, 
out  of  such  a  weak,  selfish  human  lieart  as  mine  is 
naturally,  could  yet  make  a  vessel  meet  for  His  use." 

"  How  shall  I  get  there  ?  "  v/hispered  the  girl. 

"  By  surrendering  your  whole  life,  spirit,  soul 
and  body  once  and  forever  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
Solemnly  and  unreservedly  placing  and  having 
yourself  in  His  hands  to  be  and  bear  and  do  all  His 
will.  Then  keep  your  eyes  off  of  yourself,  your 
feelings,  everything  that  makes  up  the  old  self  life 
and  on  to  Jesus.  Let  Him  take  care  of  you,  your 
death  to  self,  your  resurrection  to  life.  Once  fully 
His  that  is  no  longer  your  business.  Your  busi- 
ness is  to  count  thfit  done  which  He  consents  to 
do  and  rejoice  evermore." 

"  But  what  if  I  'should  shrink  afterwards,  draw 
back  ?  "  under  her  breath. 


lO 


fi 


■  *  fA 


!5a»RislBia«8M«WH***~"' 


146 


IIERBEliT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


"■  lie  will  hold  )-ou  to  your  purpose  if  honest, 
and  wivit  patiently  until  you  are  still  enough  in 
His  hands  to  let  Him  complete  His  work.  I'liere 
is  no  danger  ou  His  side,  and  it  is  all  His  side  when 
nil  given  to  Him.  He  will  never  yield  again  what 
is  once  truly  given  to  Him;  hut  we  can  hinder, 
delay  the  woik  hy  our  vacillation  and  impa- 
tience." 

"  What  if  something  in  me  refuses  to  he  hound 
to  the  altar?" 

"  Ask  Him  and  trust  Him  to  bring  that  thing  to 
willing  surrender  and  never  worry  about  it.  Rea, 
we  can  do  nothing  but  will,  that  is  our  one  great 
endowment.  It  is  for  you  to  will  youmelf  w}iolly 
His,  and  it  is  for  Him  to  make  you  so.  And  if  you 
are  not  yet  absolutely  willing,  if  you  are  willing  to 
be  made  willing  He  will  bring  it  to  pass.  Give 
youi-self  to  the  utmost  of  your  ability,  freely  and 
fully,  and  where  you  can  no  longer  give,  where 
something  within  holds  back,  ask  Him  there  to 
come  in  and  take.  He  will  do  it.  He  is  only  wait- 
ing an  invitation  to  enter  and  occupy  all  your  be- 
ing, filling  you  with  the  perfume  of  His  grace  and 
blessing  you  with  the  fruitage  of  His  love." 

"  Herbert  I  want  to  do  this  now,  will  you  pray 
with  me  ?  "     And  the  Lord  hearkened  and  heard. 

Did  the  young  man  imagine  it,  or  was  there  from 
that  day  an  added  loveliness  in  this  girl's  life  ?  If 
it  was  imagination  many  shared  it  with  him. 

"  Herbert,"  said  her  mother,  "  what  spell  have 
you  wrought  on  Fred,  do  you  not  notice  how  pe- 


.l|til.Jll|limii::ii'Ji: 


JR. 

•jjose  if  honest, 

itill  iMioupl.  in 

work.     I'liero 

I  Ilisside  when 
ulcl  again  what 
ve  can  hinder, 
)n    and    impsi- 

es  to  he  bound 

\g  tliat  thing  to 

iibout  it.     Kea, 

our  one  great 

^ouraelf  wholly 

And  if  you 

II  are  willing  to 
to  pass.  Give 
ity,  freely  and 

^er  give,  where 
Him  there  to 
He  is  only  wait- 
ipy  all  your  be- 
:  His  grace  and 
'is  love." 
,  will  you  pray 
lied  and  heard, 
was  there  from 
girl's  life?    If 
with  him. 
hat  spell  have 
notice  how  pe- 


DKKFER  LIFE. 


147 


cxiliarly  tender  and  unselfish  she  is  growing?  Is 
your  spirit  infectious  ?     Is  there  hope  for  nio  ?" 

"Jessie,"  said  Mr.  Rogei-a  to  his  wife,  "If  our 
little  girl  k<)ep8  on  she  will  soon  have  wings.  She 
was  always  good  enough,  hut  there's  something 
dif'^erentalxiut  her  and  I'm  not  sure  it's  healthy." 

"  Nonsense,"  answered  his  wife.  "  She  feels  the 
strong  spiritual  atmosphere  Herbert  brings  with 
him  and  grows  fast  as  flowers  will  under  favorable 
conditions." 

"How  sweet  Fred  is  of  late,"  said  Marion  to 
Elsie.  "  She  grows  more  like  you,  thoughtful,  and 
quiet  as  if  there  was  a  joy  inside  that  held  her  still. 
I  wonder  if  it  is  Cousin  Herbert  1  He  doesn't  talk 
much  about  religion,  and  yet  he  never  talks  any- 
thing else.  It  is  all  through  everything  he  says 
and  does ;  there  is  not  an  inch  of  him  that  does  not 
make  you  feel  God.  I've  seen  him  smile  at  Fred 
as  Mabel  does  when  she  is  encouraging  baby  to 
walk,  and  Fred  looks  sometimes  as  if  she  was  near 
to  adoration.  She  had  better  be  careful  since  he  is 
a  cousin." 

"  He  is  no  such  thing,"  answered  Elsie.  "  We 
lika  to  think  we  are  related  to  the  Gardenells,  but 
we  are  not.  Papa  was  only  the  adopted  son  of  old 
Farmer  Walton,  and  Aunt  Yensie  was  his  niece. 
They  were  thrown  much  together  as  seeming 
cousins,  and  papa  petted  and  stood  up  for  her  in  so 
brotherly  a  fashion  that  she  always  regards  him  as 
such.  She's  very  lovely.  Mamma  says  she  was 
always  papa's  ideal  of  womanliness." 


i 


Hi 


148 


hkhukut  uahdenkll,  jh. 


"  Wliiit  ill  Die  world  are  you  liero  for,  Miss 
Fred?  Ii'h  ho  place  for  you,  and  you  kiio'./  1 
don't  like  your  i'lterfcrence." 

"  It  isn't  interference,  it's  bread,  Niison,  and  I'm 
setting  it  so  you  may  have  time  to  go  to  meeting 
to-night." 

"  As  if  I  cared  anything  for  meeting.  I'm  none 
of  your  pious  kind." 

"  Put  you  '.vill  be,  won't  you,  old  blossom,  if 
oniy  to  please  your  l)a'uyg/rl?  If  you'll  be  good 
and  sit  still  I  v/ill  braid  your  hair,  and  that  will  be 
ready." 

"  I  declare  for  it,"  muttered  Nason  to  herself, 
as  she  changed  lier  dress  and  arranged  her  bonnet, 
"  tiKit  yirl  will  make  a  fool  of  me  yet  if  slie  keeps 
on.  I  just  can't  resist  her  of  late.  She's  getting 
too  good,"  dmwing  the  back  of  her  hand  across 
lier  eyes.  "  I'm  not  sure  I  like  it.  My  mother 
always  said  the  good  die  young."  And  the  mem- 
bei-s  of  her  own  houseliold  were  not  the  only 
pei-sons  who  noticed  how  fast  this  young  life  began 
to  ripen. 


.^im^mmmmmmimnmmmmmKmimm 


hero  for,  Misa 
1  you  kiio'./  I 

N'iisoti,  and  I'm 
go  to  meeting 

ing.     I'm  none 

)ld  blogHom,  if 
you'll  be  good 
nd  that  will  be 

ion  to  herself, 
ed  her  bonnet, 
et  if  alie  keeps 

She's  getting 
sr  Imnd  across 
.  My  mother 
And  the  nieni- 

not  the  only 
)uug  life  began 


TWO  HUlTOliH. 


'"*"  'VWWifWfi'^A'l-i 


U9 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


TWO  8UITOK8. 


"  Love,  Earth's  lord,  must  have  his,  lorUly  will."— Paul  H. 
Haynk 

With  the  exception  of  Nason,  busy  in  the 
kitchen,  Herbert  was  the  only  pei^on  in  the  great 
farm-house.  Mr.  Rogera  and  his  men  were  busy 
in  the  fields,  Mrs.  Rogers  and  the  girls  Imd  taken 
a  long  drive  to  call  on  a  family  recently  come  to 
these  parts  and  neglected  thus  far  through  the  ill- 
ness of  the  before-named  gentleman.  He  had  been 
pressed  to  join  them,  but  excused  himself,  as  there 
were  letters  he  ought  to  write. 

The  fii-st  page  of  the  finst  epistle  was  hardly 
completed,  however,  when,  glancing  up,  he  dis- 
covered a  tall,  lank,  awkward-looking  specimen  of 
humanity  coming  up  the  walk  toward  the  house. 
The  stranger  mounted  the  front  tstcrs  and  walked 
across  the  piazza  directly  to  the  window  and  peered 
in  as  if  seeking  to  see  somebody.  His  eyes  met 
Herbert's  with  evident  disappointment. 

"  I  s'pose  Fredreeky's  round  somewhere  ? "  iio 
inquired  anxiously  through  the  screening. 


"  iiiHL'UlliiM»M*''«'i'"  • 


„  ,  f.. .  J. . 


^! 


ly 


'.>i 


KiO 


IIKUHKHT  UAIlDkWKLL,  J  It. 


\<  \\ 


At  tlie  Higl.t  of  tl.c  big,  roiiiul  face,  nnd  prniiu- 
neiit  lii  ht  oyos,  IKulHJit  was  iviiuikI.mI  fcicil.iy  of 
his  couHin's  desciiption  of  SiliwCmwdon,  Ihonioin- 
iiig  of  his  arrival  at  tlie  farm.  VVhon  "  Fredreeky  " 
foil  from  the  man's  li|,H  ho  had  not  a  doubt  of  his 
identity. 

"  No;  she  has  gone  away  this  afternoon." 
"  I  s'poso  she'll  be  Iwick  soon  ?  " 
"  Not  until  quite  late,  I  fear." 
The  man  left  the  window  and  came  round  to  the 
door,  walking  in  and  helping  himself  to  a  chair. 

"  I  s'pose,"  ho  said,  Ix'ginning  his  further  re- 
marks with  the  expression  used  twice  before,  "  I 
s'poso  now  you're  the  chap  from  the  East  that Vvo 
heern  tell  on  ?      You  was  took  sick,  it  seems  ?  " 

'  Yes.  I  am  from  New  York,  and  have  been 
sick,  as  I  l)elievo  you  have  been  also,  Mr.  f 'rowdcn. 
I  am  glad  to  see  you  are  improving  in  health  as 
well  as  myself." 

Mr.  Crowden's  face  lighted.  He  felt  flattered. 
This  stranger  had  heard  of  him.  Herbert,  on  his 
part,  was  also  reaching  favorable  conclusions. 
This  man  was  not  so  ill-appearing  after  all  as  one 
might  have  supposed  who  heard  Fied's  description 
of  his  charms.  He  certainly  had  little  Ijeauty  to 
boast—"  full  moon  "  exactly  expressed  the  cast  (;f 
his  countenance — he  was  certainly  rmgh,  ignorant, 
uncouth,  and  inclined  to  self-importance,  but,  as 
this  gentleman  judged,  neither  gross  nor  lacking  in 
a  certain  manliness  of  intent  and  purpose  however 
misapplied. 


I,  .Hi. 


TWO  SVITOUa. 


161 


face,  nnd  j)rniiii- 
iidcd  fdicildy  <»f 
)\vdf!i,  thonioni- 
>il  "  Fiechei'ky  " 
>t  a  doubt  of  iii8 

ftcinooii." 


mo  louiul  to  the 
ilf  tt)  a  t'liair. 
liis  furtlier  ro- 
wieo  before,  "  I 
e  East  tliat  I've 
:,  it  seems  ?  " 
and  have  been 
),  Mr.  Crowdcii. 
ng  ill  health  as 

!  felt  flattered. 
Flerbert,  on  his 
e  conclusions, 
lifter  nil  ns  one 
-'d's  description 
little  lx3au(y  to 
ised  the  cast  (;f 
^''{?J»'  ignorant, 
•rtaiice,  but,  aa 
i  nor  lacking  in 
irpose  however 


•'  Wanl,  yes,  I  am  gittin'  along,  thank  ye. 
You'ie  a  pai-son,  it  Keems,  and  n  cousin  of  Frcd- 
reeky's  '!  "  going  on  with  IiIh  investigations. 

"  I  am  certainly  a  minister,"  answered  Ilerliert 
smiling,  '*aad  Miss  Kogers  calls  mo  her  cousin, 
but  there  is  no  tie  of  blood  l»ctween  us." 

"  CJhecwhacky  1  yer  don't  say  so.  I  K'[>o8e  now 
you're  fond  of  her  ? '' 

"  I  certainly  am,"  admitted  the  gentleman 
smiling. 

"  An'  she  sets  her  eyes  by  you  ;  everybody  says 
BO.  They  say  as  liow  shi}  waited  on  you  by  inches 
when  you  was  sick." 

"  She  and  Mi-s.  Rogers  have  certainly  Ixjeu  de- 
voted nurses,  no  man  could  ask  better." 

The  westerner  looked  puzzled.  How  much  did 
this  non-committal  young  man  care  for  this  maiden  ? 
"  You're  pious,"  he  said  slowly,  "  gal's  run  to 
religion.  I  never  had  none  to  speak  of,  though 
it's  a  good  thing.  Fredreeky's  pious,  an'  it's  not 
the  worst  thing  in  a  gai,  especially  when  she's  the 
purtiest  and  smartest  thing  for  miles  around.  I 
'spose  now  she  really  likes  you,  Mr.  Garden — 
Garden — it's  something  alx»ut  gardening?" 

"  Gardenell,"  suggested  Herbert,  wondering 
where  all  this  would  tend. 

"  I'm  a  good  mind  to  tell  you  the  whole  buz'ness 
and  ask  your  advice  ;  that's  what  yoii  parsons  are 
for,  I  take  it  ?  "  frankly.  Again  the  young  man 
smiled,  he  had  found  wiser  men  than  Silas  Crowden 
with  the  same  idea  of  his  vocation. 


-4.<«i. 


,  ?»' 


1.V2 


UKltllKHT  (iAHhKSKl.l.,  Jit. 


»♦  I  slmll  bo  happy  to  li»?lp  you  if  it  ia  in  my 
power,  Mr.  Crowdeii,"  he  Hiiid. 

"  Willi,  I  don't  know  iw  'ii«  'ziiekly,  but  you  can 
jtulgo  for  yourself.  I  think  ii  good  lot  of  Fred- 
reeky,  I  luight'H  well  own  thiit  up  funt  thing,  for 
it's  true." 

"That's  honorable,"  said  Herbert.  "No  man 
need  over  be  aHham(!'l  to  own  an  lionest  love  for  a 
noble  woman.     It  hosiors  him  and  her  alike." 

The  mull's  eyes  siioiie,  he  extended  his  hand. 
"Good  for  you,  parson  ;  you'll  do,  I'm  thinkin'. 
Wall,  as  I  said  ai'ore,  I  like  Fredreeky,  and  I'm 
well  fixed,  with  a  fust-iilass  farm  and  a  lot  of  cash 
and  eattle,  and  all  thiit,  ami  a  woman  who  is  after 
me  hot  foot,  only  I  had  my  heart  sot  on  this  one, 
do  you  see.'' 

"  ¥(!.■«,  I  see." 

"  T'other  one  she's  a  good  cretur,  a  real  good 
cretur,  and  nussed  mo  through  the  fever,  an  she's 
j\8  sot  on  bavin'  me,  as  I  am  on  bavin'  this  one." 

IlL'il)crt  nodded.  "  I  think  I  nndti-stand  your 
predicament,  Mr.  Crowden.  Your  heart  seems 
leading  you  in  one  direction  and  your  judgment 
in  another.  You  cannot  help  a  certain  leaning,  a 
certain  tenderness,  for  the  woman  who  has  proved 
her  devotion  to  you,  and  yet " 

"  You've  hit  it  'zackly,  Mr.  Garden ;  I'm  in  a  sort 
of  mixed-up  state  of  mind,  and  t'other  one  is 
pressin'  nic  hard,  an'  it's  got  to  be  settled  at  once." 

"  I  see.  Now  I  wonder  whether  you  will  take 
my  advice  after  1  give  it?  " 


•belt.  "  No  man 
honu8t  love  for  a 
1  her  ulike." 
lended  Iuh  hand, 
do,  I'm  thinkin'. 
edreeky,  and  I'm 

and  a  lot  of  cash 
man  who  is  after 

sot  on  this  one, 


mmgifmimfmm 


retur,  a  real  good 
ho  fever,  an  she's 
lavin'  this  one." 

niidci'stand  your 
four  heart  seems 
d  your  judgment 
certain  leaning,  a 
II  who  has  proved 


■den;  I'm  in  a  sort 
d  t'otlier  one  is 
e  settled  at  once." 
ler  you  will  take 


TWO  HUIWUS. 


168 


•»  Sailin  Buro,  nnh'Hs  it's  too  Mg  a  doso  to 
Kwallow.  Mr.  (larden,  you  think  my  chances  are 
jiurty  slinj  with  Fredriu'ky?" 

"Well,  yes.  I  think  tlieyaro.  You  have  heard 
the  ohl  saw,  'A  bird  in  the  liand  is  worth  t\v(»  in 
tiie  hush.'  A  woman  wlio  liivs  already  proved  her 
devotion  by  nursing  you  through  a  severe  illness 
is  not  to  bo  lightly  esteemed." 

"  You're  right  there,  parson,  solid  right.  I've 
thoMght  of  that  myself,  even  if  she  isn't  so  young  or 
so  handsum  as  this  one.  Hut  my  heait  is  awful 
sot  on  Fredreeky.  She's  skittish  and  ollish.  But 
the  stuff's  there,  I  allow,  and  get  her  once  to  likin' 
a  fellow  and  she'd  aick  to  him  through  thick  and 
thin.  I  W(m't  say  I'm  not  well  puzzled  atween 
em  both,  t'other  one  btnng  allays  arter  mo,  and  I 
iHjin'  allys  arter  this  one." 

"  I  judge  from  your  estimate  of  my  cousin,  Mr. 
Crowden,  that  you  have  a  mind  of  your  own  and 
one  capable  of  seeing  two  sides  of  a  question,"  said 
Herbert  witli  tl>e  wisdom  of  tho  serpent,  thinking 
he  saw  a  way  to  servo  Fred  and  her  would-be  lover 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  "  Now  I  put  it  to  you 
as  a  gentleman,  is  it  quite  fair  for  a  man  to  thrust 
his  attentions  on  a  lady  after  he  finds  they  are 
disagreeable  to  her  ?  " 

Mr.  Crowden  winced,  but  he  offered  no  remark, 
and  his  adviser  proceeded. 

"  You  can  understand  that  a  person  of  Miss 
Rogei-s'  temperament  is  subject  to  strong  prejudices 
and  apt  to  misjudge  any  one  who  presses  her  too 


n 


■kSKI 


ipn^ 


154 


IIKUUERT  GAIWENELL,  JR. 


11 


^  m 


If  I 


closely  oil  any  question.  After  a  second's  consider- 
ation too,  you  w-M  see  that  she  is  very  unlikely  to 
change  lier  mind  Avheu  once  made  up.  In  my 
judgment  the  best  way  for  one  in  earnest  to  win 
her  favor  'voukl  1m)  to  act  moderately,  indifferently, 
in  fact  let  licv  alone  until  she  makes  some  advance 
herself.  If  a  friend  of  mine  wore  so  unfortunate 
as  to  be  out  of  favor  with  her,  I  should  advise  him 
to  use  extreme  caution  if  ho  desired  to  be  reinstated 
in  lier  affection.  The  less  he  troubled  her  with  his 
presence  and  attention  the  better  for  his  cause." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,  pareon,"  admitted  liis 
listener,  slowly.  "  But  this  here  question's  got  to 
be  settled  at  once.  A  fellow  that's  pressed  himself 
can't  be  over  and  above  cautious.  Yet  I  s'pose  it's 
hardly  Avoith  while  for  a  feller  to  waste  time  a 
follerin'  wliai.  he's  never  sure  of  ketching." 

"Just  so,'  assented  Herbert,  "  especially  when 
one  more  appreciative  is  waiting  a  nod  to  follow 
him." 

"  You're  right  there,  young  man,  solid  right. 
That's  just  what  the  t'other  one  is  doin',  waitin' 
anxiously  for  a  nod,  and  givin'  me  a  nudge  now 
ar,d  agin,  to  let  me  know  she's  waitin'.  I  declare 
to  it,  I'm  a  mind  to  settle  the  whole  thing  this 
very  night,  an'  give  her  the  nod  and  ease  her  mind, 
for  she's  a  worriting  over  the  thing  and  no  mis- 
take. She's  a  good  cretur,  Mr.  Garden,  and  a 
good  housekeeper  and  manager ;  a  man  could  do 
worse.  I  s'pose  now  Fredreeky'U  be  settling  in  the 
East?"  questioningly. 


■t"^r-5i^it4?;^'i: 


j|4,»iii.m.i,tnii);i-';iini 


'LL,  JR. 

I  second's  coiisider- 
.8  very  unlikely  to 
nade  up.  lu  my 
in  earnest  to  win 
itely,  indifferently, 
akes  some  advance 
Fire  so  unfortunate 
should  advise  him 
red  to  be  reinstated 
mbled  her  with  his 
r  for  his  cause." 
an,"  admitted  his 
•e  question's  got  to 
it's  pressed  himself 
.  Yet  I  s'pose  it's 
!r  to  waste  time  a 
ketching." 

"  especially  when 
',  a  nod  to  follow 

man,  solid  right, 
le  is  doin',  waitin' 
me  a  nudge  now 
ivaitin'.  I  declare 
!  whole  thing  this 
ind  ease  her  mind, 
Jung  and  no  mis- 
Ir.  Garden,  and  a 
;  a  man  could  do 

II  be  settling  in  the 


TWO  SUITORS. 


165 


"  I  really  don't  know,  Mr.  Crowden.  I  think  she 
will  be  apt  to  settle  wherever  her  lieart  leads  her." 

"  P'raps  you'll  ride  oyer  and  see  me  before  you 
go  Eivst,  Parson,"  said  the  Westerner,  on  departing. 
"  I'd  like  to  show  you  over  the  place,  and  I'll 
introduce  you  to  the  t'other  one.  P'raps,"  rather 
shamefacedly,  "  you'd  be  willin'  to  hitch  us,  seein' 
as  I've  taken  your  advice  ?  " 

"  Gladly,"  answered  Herbert,  heartily  shaking 
hands  with  him.  "  Let  me  know  when  you  need 
my  services  and  they  will  be  freely  yours." 

As  the  family  were  about  to  leave  the  late  supper- 
table  that  evening,  Nason  broke  forth  :  "  I  think  I 
saw  Si  Crowden  hangin'  around  this  afternoon, 
Miss  Fred." 

"  Si  Crowden,"  cried  the  girl,  in  dismay.  "  Is 
he  able  to  be  out  again  ?     What  did  he  want? " 

"Ask  those  that  saw  him,"  answered  the  woman 
with  a  meaning  glance  at  Herbert  as  she  left  the 
room.  Of  course  all  eyes  were  turned  toward  the 
young  man. 

"  My  advice  and  my  services,"  he  answered  to 
their  questioning. 

*'  Advice  !  "  cried  Elsie  and  Fred  in  a  breath. 

"  He's  one  of  Fred's  admirei-s,"  volunteered 
Marion.  "  Poor  Fred  is  one  of  the  unfortunates 
with  whom  everybody  falls  in  love." 

"  Mai !  "  said  her  sister,  reprovingly. 

"  What  advice  did  you  give  him?"  asked  Mr. 
Rogera,  guessing  the  probable  situation. 

"  I  advocated  enthusiastically  the  cause  of  tho 


156 


HERIiEIiT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


H 


devoted  female  who  nui-sed  him  in  ickness  and  is 
ready  to  cheer  him  in  health." 

"  Did  you  win  your  cause  ?  " 

"  Most  surely,  and  an  invitation  to  officiate  at 
his  wedding." 

"  Are  you  going,  cousin  ?  "  asked  Marion,  clap- 
ping her  hands,  ecstatically. 

"  Certainly,  and  I  will  take  you  with  me  if  yon 
are  good.  Rea,  you  have  lost  one  follower  for- 
ever." 

Sho  rose  with  a  flushed  face  and  came  to  his 
side.     "  Are  you  sure  ?  "  she  a.sked. 

"  Quite  sure,"  he  answered,  smiling  into  her 
eyes. 

"  How  can  I  thank  you  ?  " 

"  Get  your  wrap  and  take  a  turn  with  me  in  the 
orchard,  where  I  can  answer  you  better." 

"  Don't  go  far,  childreji,"  cried  Aunt  Jessie,  as 
she  saw  them  stroll  off  under  the  trees.  "  Re- 
member, Herbert,  you  are  not  strong  enough  yet 
to  be  out  after  sundown." 

He  turned  and  wafted  her  a  kiss.  "  Youi-s  obe- 
diently," he  laughed. 

An  hour  afterward  as  they  stood  together  on  the 
piazza,  he  said  to  this  same  woman,  "  Aunt  Jessie, 
I  have  a  great  favor  to  a«k  you." 

"  It  is  granted  l)efore  asked,"  she  answered 
gaily,  extending  to  him  her  hand. 

"  It  is  not  your  hand,  but  your  daughter's,  I 
ask,"  he  said,  taking  the  little  palm  nevertheless 
between  both  his  own. 


^■^i      i^  ^ 


iaMiiMW«i>«w«iii» 


'M'^.?WWJ!""a^'^""''^"?^gjgi*^iP'"?^""""'' 


in    ickness  and  is 

on  to  officiate  at 

ked  Marion,  clap- 

11  with  me  if  you 
3ne   follower   for- 

and  came  to  his 
:ed. 
smiling  into  her 


irn  with  me  in  the 
.  better." 

d  Aunt  Jessie,  as 

the  tiees.     "  Re- 

trong  enougli  yet 

iss.     "  Youi-s  obe- 

od  together  on  the 
an,  "  Aunt  Jessie, 

1,"    she   answered 

i. 

our  daughter's,   I 

palm  nevertheless 


TIVO  SUITORS. 


157 


y  i.^iX"=bSr4  T  J 


"  Herbert  I  It  isn't  possible  1  You  can't  be  in 
love  with  my  Fred  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Jessie,  it  is  more  than  possible,  i*.  is 
certain  that  I  am  in  love  Avith  my  Ilea,"  he  re^^)lied, 
smiling  at  lier  astonishment. 

"  You  don't  know  how  happy  you  make  me.  I 
am  flattered,  ho'"^ved." 

"  Let  me  return  your  words  with  interest,  you 
best  auntie  in  the  world,  but  you  must  not  forget 
it  may  mean  Africa  for  your  darling." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  answered  with  a  sigh, 
''  but  surely  God  luis  grace  for  me  as  for  other 
mothers — for  yours.  And,  Herbert,  I  know  I 
would  rather  have  her  with  you  in  Africa  than 
with  anylwdy  else^  though  next  door."  And  she 
pui  up  her  arms  and  drew  his  face  down  and  kissed 
him. 

"  Fred,  my  boy,  my  only  son,  I  am  proud  of 
you,  and  want  to  kiss  you,"  cried  this  woman  a 
little  after  as  she  entered  her  daughter's  room, 
surprising  her  in  her  night-robe.  "  Do  you  know," 
taking  the  girl  in  her  arms,  "  that  you  have  won 
the  grandest  heart  that  beats  in  any  bosom  in  all 
this  broad  United  States?  What!  crying!  and 
yet  the  possessor  of  such  wealth.  Fie  on  you! 
Herbert  did  not  weep  when  he  told  me  his  joy." 

"  But  he  is  big  and  could  shine  it  out  of  his 
beautiful  eyes,  and  I  am  little  and  have  only  my 
teai-s,"  looking  up  humbly  through  tliem.  "  It 
seems  like  a  dream,  mother,  a  beautiful  dream  that 
can  never  be  quite  true.     It  is  surely  impossible 


„wemifsm>U'^-"-- 


^.^ 


..^■i...  .  ..  ;  .j,i  .^r.v:  ..'I'V 


1&8 


UEIiBElir  OARDENELL,  JR. 


that  I  should  ever  really  he  his  wife.  I  cannot 
tell  what  it  means  to  me  that  he  should  say  he 
loves  me.  I  cannot  think  it,  I  can  only  feel  it 
and  hold  it  close  to  he  sure  it  is  true.  I  could  not 
helieve  it  at  all  only  he  has  said  it,  and  that  makes 
it  indisputable.  But,  mother,  gmnd  and  noble  as 
he  is,  he  does  not  love  me  as  I  love  him.  He 
cannot.  I^  is  impossible,  because  I  am  so  un- 
wu.thy  of  much  and  he  so  worthy  of  more  than 
any  woman  could  possibly  give,  though  she  render 
all,  as  I  do.  I  ^ho  was  never  so  insignificant  as 
now." 

"  Oh,  what  reasoning !  Aa  if  the  worthier 
could  not  offer  most.  Look  up,  my  pink,  be  sure 
Herbert  Gardenell  could  never  choose  insignifi- 
cance. His  choice  has  crowned  you.  What  a 
wonderful  woman  I  must  be,"  laughing  and  kiss- 
ing the  maiden's  cheek, "  to  mother  such  daughters, 
the  lowliest  of  which  has  proven  herself  fit  for  the 
peemge  of  heaven !  " 


iiiPililliilllllM^^ 


iiliRiiiii 


:ll,  jr. 

8  wife.     I  cannot 

he  should  say  lie 

I  can  only  feel  it 

true.     I  could  not 

it,  and  that  makes 

fmnd  and  noble  as 

I  I  love  him.     He 

iuse  I  am  so   un- 

»ithy  of  more  than 

,  though  she  render 

80  insignificant  a^ 

I  if  the  worthier 
3,  my  pink,  be  sure 
r  choose  insignifi- 
ed  you.  What  a 
laughing  and  kiss- 
lier  such  daughters, 
n  herself  fit  for  the 


AFRICA. 


160 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AFRICA. 

"  O  my  heart  as  white  sails  shiver, 

And  crowds  are  passing  and  hands  stretch  wide 
How  liard  to  foilow,  with  ;  ii  tliat  quiver, 
That  moving  speck  on  tlie  Jar-off  side  1" 

J  KAN  INOELOW. 

"  There  amid  the  droppings  of  celestial  speech, 
Think  you  we  may  forget  eacli  said  to  each 
'  Good-bye,  dear  Love,  good-bye  ? '" 

S.  R.  G.  C. 

It  was  some  weeks  before  Mi-s.  Gardenell  was 
able  to  be  moved,  and  then  her  physicians  hung 
over  her  with  the  utmost  anxiety.  Had  they  not 
feared  the  heat  of  the  city  they  would  hardly  have 
consented  to  her  removal  on  any  condition.  But 
no  evil  attended  it,  and  she  gained  fast  under  the 
delicious  country  air  and  fare.  Slowly  but  surely 
slie  was  coming  back  to  life  and  her  family,  and 
llieir  joy  seemed  complete  when  at  List  she  could 
lie  on  the  couch  in  their  midst,  joining  in  their  con- 
versation and  song^, 

It  was  a  sorrow  to  the  whole  family  v/hen  they 
found  Lenore  could  not  accompany  them  to  Bloom- 
ingle.  Mr.  Gardenell  had,  before  this,  furnished 
a  competent  cook,  sure  that  the  entire  charge  of  the 


: 


160  IIFAtBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 

house  too  was  much  for  the  slender  girl.    Tliey  hail 
prevailed  on  her  to  remain  with  them,  however, 
doing  some  of  the  lighter  work,  for  she  had  grown 
very  dear  to  the  nieml)ei-s  of  the  household.     Mr. 
Gardenell  regarded  her  very  much  in  the  light  of 
another  daughter,  and  treated  her  with  the  affec 
tionate  considei-ation    he  always  tendered  Olive. 
His  wife  had  come  to  depend  much  on  her  firm  but 
gentle  touch,  her  quiet  voice  and  step,  and,  as  she 
grew  stronger,  lK>th  girls  took  turns  in  relieving 
nui-ae,  and  in  reading  to  her.     To  them  each  this 
stranger  had  become   one  of  themselves— a  part 

of  their  family  life. 

It  was  to  Olive  who  was  descanting  on  the  beau- 
ties of  Bloomingle,  and  laying  plans  for  their 
future  enjoyment,  that  Lee  first  said  it  would  be 
imoossible  for  her  to  go.  Her  words  were  met 
by  a  storm  of  regret,  and  grief.,  and  argument. 

"I  cannot,  will  not,  go  witlu/ot  you,"  Olive  de- 
clared. „ 

"Mother  cannot,   must  not,  do   without  me, 
Lenore  returned.     "  Indeed  I  must  not  think  of  it. 
There  is  an  opening  for  me  at  Madam's.     I  am  no 
longer  necessary  here  ;  you  can  get  along  without 

'^  Now  you  are  cruei"  was  the  reproachful  reply. 
"  As  if  we  could  ever  do  without  you  again.  As 
if  your  work  was  what  we  cared  for  and  not  your- 
self "  And  Lee  kissed  her  friend,  trying  to  com- 
foit  her,  assuring  her  that  never  before  had  any 
love  been  as  satisfactory  to  her  as  was  Olive  s,  tliat 


."*".'4»-' 


^W 


L,  JR. 

r  girl.  They  had 
them,  however, 
or  she  had  grown 
household.  Mr. 
h  in  the  light  of 
er  with  the  affec- 
tendered  Olive, 
ih  on  her  firm  but 
I  step,  and,  as  she 
urns  in  relieving 
them  each  this 
emselves — a  part 


AFHICA. 


IGl 


nting  on  the  beau- 
plans  for  their 
said  it  would  be 

•  words  were  met 

md  argument. 

vt  you,"  Olive  de- 
do   without  me," 

lUst  not  think  of  it. 

Madam's.     I  am  no 
get  along  without 

B  reproachful  reply, 
lut  you  again.  As 
i  for  and  not  your- 
end,  trying  to  com- 
ver  before  had  any 
as  was  Olive's,  that 


never  before  had  any  s[)ot  so  seemed  like  home, 
tliiit  only  because  slie  knew  it  tol>e  tlie  will  of  God 
hiid  she  been  able  to  look  forward  to  this  parting 
lieiself.  Unable  to  move  her  from  her  purpose, 
Olive  appealed  to  lier  father.  He  promised  to  do 
liis  Ijest,  and  summoned  Lee  to  the  study. 

'  My  dear  child,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  feel  un- 
able to  accompany  us  to  Bloomingle  ;  can  nothing 
change  your  decision  ?  " 

Nothing,  sir,  since  I  have  not  decided  for  my- 
self," she  answered  modestly. 

"  We  will  make  it  very  pleasant  for  you,  Lenore." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  that,"  she  replied.  "  I  have 
never  been  happier  than  since  I  came  to  live  with 
you.  But  you  know  we  are  to  choose,  not  ease,  but 
God's  will." 

The  gentleman  laid  a  gentle  hand  on  her  head. 
"  You  have  been  an  apt  scholar,  Lee,  since  you 
have  learned  so  much  so  early.  But  I  have  been 
wondering  if  your  mother  could  not  go  with  us 
to.)." 

"  You  are  kind,  but  it  is  impossible." 

He  smiled.  "  I  have  not  tried  my  persuasive 
powers  yet.  Perhaps  I  can  convince  her  how 
much  the  change  will  benefit  you  both." 

She  looked  very  much  startled. 

"  O  no,  sir,  you  will  not  t'.iink  of  that,  you  will 
not,  you  must  not,  try  to  see  mamma.  She  would 
never  allow  it."  The  distress  in  her  voice  was 
most  real.  Olive  was  right  when  she  declared  her 
friend  had  some  secret  sorrow. 
II 


iim^i¥tAi^imim»»immmmmmi^ 


1* 


182  IJEItliERT  GAIiDEyELL,  JR. 

"I  certainly  wll  do  nothing  that  can  grievo 
yon,"  he  hastened  to  say.  "  T  «n.  yom  friend.  Lee, 
and  you  have  been  a  great  blessing  to  us.  We  dis- 
like to  give  you  up,  but  will  not  trouble  you  s 
there  no  way  I  can  serve  you,  my  child  ?  Would 
you  not 'ike  to  teach?" 
'    »In(:.",edI   w.  uld,  and  I  have  been  thoroughly 

educated."  ,  , 

"  I  have  a  friend  who  keeps  a  select  school  to" 

'oung  ladies.     She  needs  a  German  teacher.     1 

suppose    you  are  not  acquainted  with    that  Ian- 

n  u 

"  It  is  my  mother's  favorite  tongue  I  seldon. 
read  to  her  in  any  other.     Is  this  school  in  the 

city,  sir  ? "  .     a        " 

»  No,  it  is  in  another  part  of  the  State. 

» I  could  not  go,  Mr.  Gardenell,  I  thank  you 
very  much  for  your  thonghtfulness,"  she  said. 

"  Then  it  seems  I  cannot  help  you  at  all  ? 

"  Mr.  Gardenell,"  she  replied  earnestly,  "  you 
always  help  me  just  by  being  yourself." 

He  smiled  kindly. 

"  Let  me  lave  your  address,  dear,  I  may  be  able 

to  c*-'-  y^u  ""  ope'""g  »"  '^"^  "^  '''''  '''^^'  """^'"f ' 
some  day.     In  the  meantime  do  not  forbid  me  the 

privilege  of  rememl)ering  you  in  little  ways  as  I 
do  Olive."  He  took  her  hand  in  his.  "What  you 
choose  to  withhold  from  me,  my  child,  I  do  not 
even  ./ish  to  know.  But  the  privilege  of  a  friend, 
a  father,  in  caring  for  you,  I  covet.  Do  not  deny 
me  that." 


»■•*  "   "'^'*^!r5S'' ' 


AFRICA. 


108 


Jli. 

lat  can  grievo 
lui  frieiul.  Leu, 
o  us.  We  cli.T 
•ouble  you.  Is 
shiki  ?     Would 

jen  thoroughly 

ilect  school  fo'* 
lan  teac^iier.  1 
with    that  lau- 

)ngue  I  seltloir. 
J  school  in  the 

State." 

ill,  I  thank  you 
s,"  she  said, 
ouatall?" 

earnestly,  "you 
rself." 

fvr,  I  may  be  able 
our  city  schools 
lot  forbid  me  the 
little  ways  as  1 
[lis.  "  What  you 
y  child,  I  do  not 
/ilege  of  a  friend, 
3t.    Do  not  deny 


She  h ;'»ope.l  iinpnlsivfly  and  kissed  the  hniid 
Miat  held  hers  ;  he  felt  a  tear  fall  on  it. 

"All  that  concern  Miy  own  life  I  would  gladly 
open  to  your  inapeolion,"  she  said  brokenly,  "did 
not  the  life  of  .notlier,  Ixmnd  up  with  it,  close  my 
1h)8.  BuL  your  love,"  with  a  sob,  "  Oh,  1  thank  yon 
lor  that.  I  shall  go  out  into  life  stronger  and 
twtter  because  of  it — richer"  drawing  a  long 
breatli.  "  1  never  knew,  until  I  came  here,  wliat 
human,  love  might  mean.  Earth  can  never  be  dark 
or  drear  to  one  who  has  a  friend  on  earth  and  a 
Friend  in  heaven." 

He  kissed  her  tenderly,  asking  God  to  bless l.. 
How  barren  this  child's  life  must  have  been  o  la 
earth  side,  how  evi<lently  luxuriant  on  the  d  ,'i>: 
since  she  had  become  what  she  was  I  An  ii  ;- 
she  went  to  her  rov  -n  and  her  mirror  and  b  k.d  o 
her  own  face  and  gently  touched  it.  Slu  ,  imo'-t 
dreaded  to  wash  the  spot  where  a  father's  i.  .  ^  ixd 
fallen. 

Her  father  had  failed.  Olive  was  disconso- 
late. 

"  It  takes  away  half  of  the  joy  of  Bloomingle," 
she  cried.  "  Just  as  I  find  a  sister — after  waiting 
for  her  for  years — she  is  taken  from  me.  It's  too 
bad." 

"  And  do  I  lose  nothing  ?  "  queried  her  fviend, 
in  gentle  reproof.  "I  feel  as  if  I  could  poorly 
spare  you,  Olive.  But  I'm  bo  glad  I'\e  had  you 
a  little  while.  It  has  been  like  a  bit  of  fairy-land 
to  be  with  you  in  this  home.     It  will  color  all  my 


. -il 


n-.«j3^{i^^|fjgl^^)|^^^j)A4||j^«M»!>iMMU«fe';i'^  ' 


mm 


iiniilill  ,l»  I  II.I   iiw,iiiii»tm  iiyjuji.i  Ijllllipjl 


'■"mi'mm;mm^B%  \ 


164 


UERUEHT  GAIWENELL,  .III. 


life,  it  cnn  never  l)o  gmy  iignin.  I  Hlinll  ahvayu  iiuve 
these  blessed  days  to  ietiieml)er." 

"  You  will  let  lue  write  to  you,"  said  Olive, 
Kuddenly  conscieuce-sinitteii  witli  lier  friend'H 
8(»now  and  lier  own  selfishness.  "  You  will  let  nie 
hhare  with  you  all  of  lilooiningle  a  pon  can  carry, 
and  you  will  promise  to  come  out  if  only  for  an 
oecasional  day  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  assented  Lenore  doubtfully.  "  You 
may  write  if  you  send  the  letters  to  Madam's,  and 
I'll  come  for  a  day  if  mother  caii  Bj)are  nie,"  and 
that  was  all  she  could  j)romise. 

Bloomingle  and  Herbert  I  for  ho  came  the  next 
week  after  they  got  settled  there.  Jle  did  not 
delay  long  after  he  was  able  to  endure  the  journey. 
He  felt  he  must  see  his  mother. 

"  I  can  recruit  at  old  Bloom,"  ho  answered  to 
Mi"H,  Roger's  suggestion  that  he  should  delay 
awhile  longer.  "  The  siglu  of  n.other  is  all  that 
is  necessary  to  comj)leto  my  recovery." 

Of  course  the  young  man  told  his  parents  and 
sister  immediately  of  the  new  ties  he  had  assumed, 
and  Olive  at  least  was  inconsolable.  She  up- 
braided him  with  failing  her. 

"I  never  could  have  believed  you'd  love  some- 
body else,  Ilervie,"  she  8obl)ed.  "  There  I  jilted 
poor  Stanton  for  your  sake,  and  now — and  now 

"  further  than  this  she  seldom  got.     And  no 

words  of  his  seemed  to  bring  permanent  soothing. 

But  time,  that  great  healer  of  everything — 
liearts  included — cauie  to  her  help.    After  a  few 


mummimmm 


i!.iniii..i>!lii.,n|un,ii,'ii|^ifi!i 


NfMpi 


'  .a 


Jii. 

nil  alwayu  iiuve 

I,"  said  Olive, 
her  fricnd'H 
k'oii  will  let  nie 
pen  can  caiTy, 
.  if  only  for  an 

)tful]y,  "  You 
1  Madam's,  and 
4t)are  me, 


AFRICA. 


165 


"  and 


came  the  next 

He  did  not 

re  the  journey. 

10  answered  to 

should  delay 

thcr  is  all  that 

lis  parents  and 
le  hud  assumed, 
ible.      She  up- 

•u'd  love  some- 
There  I  jilted 
now — and  now 
1  got.  And  no 
anent  soothing. 
f  everything — 
».    After  a  few 


days  her  sorrow  grew  less,  seeniud  indeed  forgot- 
ten for  long  Htretuhus  togetlusr,  until  a  letter  from 
Fredricii  or  some  other  ciruumsUvnce  brought  it  to 
her  reniembmnce. 

It  was  genuine  joy  in  spite  of  all  drawbacks  to 
hive  her  brother  at  home.  The  evil  day  was  yet  far 
olY ;  she  would  enjoy  him  while  she  might.  She 
li;i(l  needed  and  wius  ready  foi'  a  rest.  Tliey  had 
l)lenty  of  help,  she  could  be  a.s  lazy  as  she  pleased, 
and  the  l>oys,  Herbert,  Harry  and  Eddie,  tt'ree  de- 
voted cavaliere,  were  assiduous  in  their  attentions 
to  her  and  mamma.  If  it  had  not  been  for  Stanton 
Cartwright  and  Fredrica  Rogers  she  would  have 
been  perfectly  happy,  she  told  hemelf,  and  she 
tried  to  banish  them  from  her  thoughts. 

Lee  came  for  a  day,  but  Herl)ert  was  away,  and, 
unfortunately,  as  his  sister  thought,  did  not  see 
her.  She  was  very  anxious  he  should  meet  her 
friend  and  pass  his  opinion  upon  her.  Why  could 
he  not  love  Lee  ?     She  would  like  her  for  a  sister. 

It  was  a  delightful  day  to  the  visitor,  however 
much  she  would  have  liked  to  meet  one  of  wliom 
she  had  so  often  heard.  Mr.  Gardenell  and  his 
younger  sons  did  everything  in  tiieir  power  to  en- 
hance her  pleasure.  What  with  games  in  the 
morning,  a  ride,  and  a  quiet  hour  listening  to  one 
of  the  gentlemen  read  in  the  afternoon,  and  a  de- 
lightful song  in  the  early  evening  before  train-time, 
her  day  was  pressed  full.  It  gave  her  foofl  for 
many  happy  honi-s  afterward.  How  favored  Olive 
was,  what  a  vision  of  ideal  home-life  she  had  en- 


■as*sfei«tea«t*»-*»wi*i*w*'*aws****»«"**^^ 


">\. 


w^mpitmm^mm 


100 


UKTinKIlT  OARDKNKll,  JR. 


joyed,  how  kind  of  licr  lioiiveiily  Father  to  give 
litT  iheHO  tiisttis  of  hlfssiMliK'.ss  I  Wliiit  inuHt  it  be 
to  libido  ill  HUcli  ail  tiliiiosplieru.  OUvo'h  lultei-H 
were  a  grunt  duligiit  V.\  tlio  lonely  girl.  She  was 
ft  charmiii'^  coiTesjHUideiit,  wrote  often,  and  ftlwiiys 
of  the  tliiiigH  ocfuiiiiig  alK>nt  her  and  of  her  own 
peculiar  trials  and  teniptatioiiH.  She  had  made  a 
conlidante  of  liCc,  and  into  her  hi-art  she  poured  all 
that  moved  her  hoiiI.  It  was  a  pectuliar  experience, 
Lenore'8  fii-st  girlfriend.  She  loved,  a<U)rod, 
crowned  her.  It  was  good  for  her,  the  new  in- 
terest enlarged  her  life,  taxing  her  prayers  and 
sympathios  in  n  natural  and  therefore  healthful 
manner. 

So  summer  ended,  and  early  fall  came,  and  with 
it  a  letter  from  Stanton  with  unexpected  news. 
He  was  to  start  within  a  month  for  Africa.  It 
was  like  a  thunderl)olt  out  of  a  clear  sky,  striking 
terror  to  Olive's  soul,  bringing  a  tender,  brooding 
awe  to  Herbert's,  who  had  never  dreamed  his  friend 
would  go  forth  without  him. 

"  It  is  very  sudden,"  Stanton  wrote,  "  but  you 
know  I  iun  always  ready.  It  seems  they  need 
some  one  at  once  and  I  have  l)een  selected.  I  am 
not  sorry.  Your  new  relations  might  delay  yon, 
old  fellow,  and  in  any  case  you  do  not  need  me  as 
you  might  if  going  alone.  It  appeai-s  to  be  God's 
way  for  me  ancl,  therefore,  my  way  for  myself.  I 
will  have  to  spend  most  of  the  time  left  me  here 
with  mother.  There  are  many  things  to  be  at- 
tended to  afore  I  can  leave  her.  I  shall  probably 
have  only  a  few  hours  with  you  all  before  sailing. 


s^ 


.i.Ui-*-^Ai.'.ii^.JlH%.tA^^i^SiU.%-:.  .>.--^^- 


mmmmmmm 


L,  JR. 

■  Krtther  to  givo 
Wliiit  inuHt  it  Ihj 

Olivo'n  It'lleis 
Y  girl.  Slio  WHS 
•fteii,  and  alwiiys 

Hiul  of  her  own 
Silt)  liiul  iimdu  a 
lit  sIk)  pourudall 
uliiir  experience, 

loved,  adored, 
ler,  the  new  in- 
ter prayei's  and 
ireforo  healthful 

i  came,  and  with 
(expected  news, 
for  Africa.  It 
ear  sk)',  striking 
tender,  brooding 
•earned  his  friend 


v^rote,  "  but  yon 
leems  they  need 

selected.  I  am 
light  delay  you, 
<  ii(<t  need  nie  as 
ears  to  be  God's 
y  for  myself.  I 
Tie  left  me  here 
things   to  be  at- 

I  shall  probably 
11  before  sailing. 


AFfllCA. 


107 


Ho  knows  lH!Ht.     Wo  will  have  all  eternity  in  which 
to  talk  it  over.     I'ray  for  me. 

"  Stanton." 


October  already.  Another  montli  and  ho  would 
Iw  gt)iie,  and  she  would  only  have  one  more  little 
glimpse  of  his  face.  Olive  felt  the  solid  earth  reel 
iMMK'iith  her;  how  could  she  let  liiin  go  from  her 
forever?  Oh,  how  her  heart  trembled,  thou"h 
her  li{)8  were  ke])t  ho  still. 

She  grow  suddenly  anxious  to  get  buck  to  the 
city.  A  week  ago  she  would  have  deprecated 
such  a  move,  have  urged  that  her  mother — almost 
her  olden  self  again,  beginning  to  pick  up  her 
jKist  duties  and  privileges — needed  yet  a  longer 
sojourn  in  the  pleasant  country  haunts.  Hut  now 
every  other  consideration  was  lost  in  one  ;  to  bo 
where  she  could  see  most  of  and  be  nearest  to 
Stanton  Cartwright  when  he  came. 

And  he  came.  But,  oh,  for  such  a  moment  as 
it  seemed  to  her  !  Tho  sound  of  his  voice  sent  a 
sort  of  madness  through  her  blood,  the  glance  of 
his  eye  made  her  heart  quiver,  and  her  eyes  droop. 
She  lived  a  sublime  torture,  an  agony  of  joy  in  tiie 
few  houi-s  lie  was  with  them  and  life,  for  a  time, 
lost  all  its  woi'th  when  he  was  gone. 

They  were  all  together  in  the  i)arlor  that  one 
night  of  his  stay  :  father,  mother,  Herbert,  Harry, 
Eddie  and  hei-self.  Her  poor  trembling  self,  watch- 
ing him  furtively  when  unobserved,  her  whole 
being  a  sort  of  human  sponge  absorbing  his  every 


I 


pyt'fWWW^' 


168 


UFAiBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


look,  and  word,  and  act.  The  evening  fled  so  fiist ! 
To-morrow  he  would  talce  the  steamer  and  say 
"  good-bye  "  as  now  he  said  "  good-iiigl\t."  She 
envied  Herbert  with  his  arm  about  his  friend's 
neck  ;  her  mother,  with  her  lifted  face  and  cling- 
ing kiss  ;  her  father's  embrace  and,  "  My  dear  boy." 
Even  Harry  and  Eddie  could  take  liberties  with 
liim  she  dared  not.  Yet  he  belonged  to  her  as  ho 
did  to  no  c  "rer,  to  her,  even  though  she  had  shut 
him  out  with  her  own  hand,  shut  him  out  from 
herself  forever. 

It  was  a  gentle  good-night,  a  tender  press  are  of 
the  hand.  But  she  fled  from  it  as  from  a  blow  and 
spent  the  whole  night  tossing  on  her  couch,  mourn- 
ing because  slie  could  not  weep. 

He  was  in  the  house,  near  her.  She  knew  the 
room,  the  bed,  in  which  he  slept  beside  Herbert. 
Only  a  few  steps  if  she  willed,  an  opened  door,  and 
she  might  look  upon  his  face.  But  to-morrow — 
to-morrow  all  her  world  would  sail  down  the  bay 
and  out  to  sea  and  she  would  be  desolate — desolate. 

She  lieard  the  first  fall  of  his  step  in  the  hall 
next  morning.  She  had  been  listening  for  it  for 
lioura.  She  must  see  liim  once  alone,  if  but  for  a 
moment,  must  say  one  last  word  before  his  depart- 
ure. Yet  she  hardly  dared  go  out  to  meet  him, 
let  him  quite  pass  her  door  before  she  stopped  him 
with  her  low,  broken,  "  Stanton."  He  halted, 
turned  and  came  to  meet  her. 

"Good-morning,"  lie  said,  with  one  of  his -.-are 
Bmiles.     "  Do  you  want  me,  Olive  ?  " 


LL,  JR. 

eningfledso  fast  I 
steamer  and  say 
jood-iiigl'.t."  She 
about  his  friend's 
jd  face  and  cling- 
d,  "  My  dear  boy." 
ike  liljerties  with 
»nged  to  lier  lis  ho 
»ugh  she  had  shut 
ut  him  out  from 

tender  pressure  of 

IS  from  a,  blow  and 

her  couch,  mouni- 

r.  She  knew  the 
it  beside  Herbert. 
1  opened  door,  and 

But  to-morrow — 
sail  down  the  bay 
lesolate — desolate. 
1  step  in  the  hall 
istening  for  it  for 
alone,  if  but  for  a 

before  his  depart- 
3ut  to  meet  him, 
e  she  stopped  him 
on."    He   halted, 

th  one  of  his  -.-are 
re?" 


*>i 


AFRICA. 


160 


"  Y(?s,  oh,  yes  I  I  want  you  to  forgive  me,  to — 
ti)-  "  how  strong  is  woman's  pride.  "  Oh,  Stanton, 
is  tliere  nothing  I  can  do  to  please  you  before  you 


"  I  think  there  is,"  he  said,  and  she  glanced  up  . 
eagerly.  How  wan  and  haggard  and  hollow-eyed 
she  looked  1  Poor  little  girl!  would  she  never 
cease  blaming  herself  for  the  past  ?  He  took  both 
lier  liands  in  his  gently.  "  I  want  to  leave  you 
two  prescriptions,  and  you  must  promise  me  to 
tike  them  daily  until  I  return.  One  you  have 
taken  before,  '  I  will  trast  and  not  be  afraid.' 
Tlie  other  is  '  All  things  work  together  for  good  to 
them  that  love  God.'     We  love  God.  Ollie." 

She  shuddered.  "  That  is  dreadful,  that  last 
one.     '  All  things  I '  that  might  mean  death." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that  might  mean  death,  but 
never  eternal  death,  never  death  without  life  in 
it.  You  would  not  have  me  risk  less  for  my  Christ 
than  a  soldier  risks  for  his  country  ?  Olive,  I  want 
to  see  you  happy,  glad,  nothing  could  please  me 
more ;  let  mo  tell  you  how  ;  there  is  but  one  way 
to  be  always  so;  it  is  found  by  centring  all  the 
springs  of  life  in  God." 

Her  eyes  and  lips  drooped,  but  she  did  not 
reply. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  do  something  else  for 
my  sake,"  he  said,  "  something  very  hard? 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  she  whispered. 

He  benthia  dear  brown  eyes  on  here,  and  stooped 
low  to  say  it :     "  Take  tlie  sister  Herbert  briugs  you 


.-'iJ;:^^:<i*> ; -J :  ■■Ii5s,^4av«y  f'^ 


.--■!.--  r'>j^,i^*r'^«'«'iIftVl?'.M.-^.^S«,-<)'^t?}>-r^.<.M«S&V)^-r---' 


V  lj.*''^>^5*:l>*:^':'«-,*»^ 


ifp>m^  P  iiWWT«|)Hiyi|Wt!pi 


Wi'JiiilMllJi    iii'il'^H "^PWWWF^IWiqil^WWWIWiyyHliU,  .iiji|lliyt!ll  iJIH;i^i|illJliMi|H4<^illii 


170 


UKnilEllT  GARDEN  ELL,  Jit. 


close  to  youi"  heart,  OUie.     As  close  as  I  would  take 
Herbert  if  you  bioutjlit  him  to  me  for  a  brother." 

Something  glistened  on  her  cheek  ;  it  dropped 
on  the  hand  that  held  hei-s. 

"  Can  you  do  so  much  for  my  sake  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  I  will  do  it  for  your  sake,"  she  made  reply.     "  I 
have  been  very  wrong  and  stubborn  in  that  and  every- 
thing.    I  will  forgive  her  for  loving  Herbei-t  for 
your  sake,  Stanton." 

He  smiled  a  little  at  the  way  she  put  it.  "  Is 
there  nothing  else  you  would  like,  Stanton  ?  "  She 
asked  humbly. 

"  You  might  write  to  little  mother,  she  will 
miss  her  big  boy  so  much,  aiid  she  knows  you  are 
my  friend.  She  has  seen  your  picture ;  you  re- 
member you  sent  me  a  little  one  when  I  was  at 
college,  dear." 

"Don't  you  want  another?  I  have  one  taken 
recently ;  it  is  more  like  me."  She  was  off  and 
back  with  the  photfjgraph  in  her  hand  Itefore  he 
could  say  yes  or  no. 

He  held  it  up,  and  looked  gravely  at  the  sw  et 
face. 

"  You  give  me  this,"  he  said,  "  to  go  with  me  to 
the  Dark  Land?  I  cannot  tell  you  howl  thank 
you  and  how  I  shall  prize  it.  I  will  look  at  it  when 
my  heart  gets  lieavy.  It  will  be  a  recipe  for  home- 
sickness ;  a  bit  of  home  always  at  hand." 

Her  teara  were  falling  fast  from  her  drooping 
eyes.  "Is  there  anything  else  you  would  like, 
Stanton  ? " 


m^imf" 


fa 


mwfiwiwiip' 


ppi 


m 


SLL,  Jit. 

lose  as  I  would  take 
ne  for  a  brother." 
cheek ;  it  dropped 

sake  ?  "  he  asked, 
le  made  reply.     "  I 
rn  in  that  and  every- 
loving  Herbei-t  for 

y  she  put  it.  "  Is 
;e,  Stanton?"     She 

I  mother,  she  will 
she  knows  you  are 
r  picture ;  you  re- 
ne  when  I  was  at 

I  have  one  taken 

She  was  off  and 

ler  hand  liefore  he 

ravely  at  the  sw  ,et 

"  to  go  with  me  to 
I  you  how  I  thank 
will  look  at  it  when 
e  a  recipe  for  home- 
.  at  hand." 
from  her  drooping 
e  you   would   like, 


AFRICA. 


171 


"  Yes,  dear.  You  make  me  bold.  I  would  like  a 
letter  occasionally  to  put  beside  the  picture." 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  she  faltered. 

Then  he  lifted  her  suddenly  to  his  arms,  and 
folded  lier  closely  to  his  bosom.  "  God  keep  you," 
lie  whispered,  as  he  placed  one  clinging  kiss  on  her 
lips  and  gentlj*  standing  her  on  her  feet  turned  to 
where  Herbert  patiently  waited  at  the  end  of  the 
corridor. 

The  tender  solemnity  of  his  face  checked  the 
question  on  her  brother's  lips,  but  Stanton  answered 
it. 

"  No,"  he  said  gravely.  "  She  would  have  re- 
fused me  nothing  I  might  ask  this  morning.  But 
I  could  not  take  advantivge  of  her  little  conscien- 
tious heart,  sorrowing  over  this  parting,  to  further 
my  own  ends.     God  expects  us  to  be  men,  Herv." 

And  from  her  end  of  the  liall,  Olive  saw  and 
felt  the  lofty  seriousness  of  his  countenance.  It  was 
like  the  face  of  a  aiau  who  has  turned  from  all 
else  but  heaven. 

And  after  that,  what?  The  dock,  the  steamer, 
the  on-looking  crowd,  the  touch  of  a  hand,  the 
i^fjiince  of  an  eye,  and  then  the  awful  loneliness, 
and  heart-sinking  as  he  drifted  out  of  reach,  until 
the  grand,  upright  figure  became  the  veriest  speck 
on  the  horizon  of  vision,  then  disappeared. 

And  Olive  stood  looking  into  space,  and  heed- 
ing nothing,  not  even  Herbtjrt's  voice  in  her  ear, 
Herbert's  touch  on  her  arm.  Her  love  overtook, 
out-ran,  steamer  and  lover.    Time  and  space  were 


i 


,..■1 


*''<*ai!8Si^S*t*f*siW''<i*  ■"-!*'•"•'''* '^*'^'**'*'^^''*'^ 


MflffiSH*''*'*''' 


172 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


annihilated.  Henceforth  one  spot  of  earth  held 
her  heart,  and  soul,  and  vision;  her  love  and 
prayers.  One  word  formed  itself  on  her  lips  as 
she  lookjd  vacantly  into  the  face  of  her  brother. 
It  was — "  Afbica  I  " 


liiiniiiPPPHiiMi 


.AN  ACCIIiENT. 


m 


CPAPTER  XVI. 

AN  ACCIDENT. 

"  To-morrow  the  paradoxes  of  earth  may  reappea"  as  the 
demonstrations  of  heaven." 
"Perfection  through  suffering— there  is  love  in  that  law," 

F.  W.  Robertson. 

"  There  are  no  accldenta  since  God  is  God." 

S.  R.  G.  0. 

It  took  all  the  loving  tact  of  which  Herbert  was 
master  to  bring  Olive  back  to  life  after  that 
parting. 

There  was  a  tacit  understanding  of  the  situation 
with  the  entire  family,  and  all  felt  it  best  to  leave 
her  to  Herbert's  love  and  comforting.  Indeed 
Stanton  had  commended  her  especially  to  him. 
His  words  took  peculiar  hold  of  his  f'-iond's 
memory ;  he  could  not  shake  then  off. 

"  Perhaps  God  wants  you  at  home,  Herv,"  he  had 
said  at  almost  the  last  moment,  his  honest  brown 
eyes  looking  straight  into  the  blue  ones  that  con- 
fronted him.  "  I  hardly  know  why,  but  I  have 
thought  He  might.  Don't  be  hasty  ;  be  sure  to  find 
His  will,  and  h^  sure  He  never  makes  mistakes. 
Take  special  care  of  Olive  for  my  sake  as  well  as  hei* 


\ 


'^SIlB'iMBt&MW'^'^''"*™'*'*'^"^'**'^ 


\bir^-^ 


fmffmmm 


"wrrr 


174 


IlEUBEllT  GALDEl'ELL,  JR. 


own  ;  and  here's  for  the  hastening  of  His  coming 
and  kingdom  wherever  we  ma}'  work,"  extending 
his  hand  for  the  liearty  grip  awaiting  it. 

"  Perhaps  God  wants  you  at  home."  What 
could  his  friend  mean?  Could  he  think  for  a 
moment  the  taking  of  a  wife  wonhl  interfere  with 
liis  highest  duty?  Wtvs  it  not  one  of  the  bitterest 
experiences  of  Vi'''?.  to  both  that  they  were  not  going 
forth  together?  lie  must  follow  speedily.  In 
the  meanwhile  he  must  find  aggressive  work  to 
do,  missionary  work,  that  he  might  not  be  out- 
stripped in  the  race. 

He  shared  his  thoughts  and  plans  with  his 
Bister,  finding  that  nothing  else  so  interested  her 
'M  something  in  touch  with  the  great  world  into 
v'hich  her  loved  one  had  disappeared.  He  was  a 
little  surprised  at  her  changed  attitude  toward  his 
affianced.  She  asked  about  Rea,  was  eager  to  hear 
what  every  letter  contained,  wrote  to  her  herself, 
and  finally  planned  a  visit  from  her  to  come  about 
at  the  holidays,  when  Harry  and  Eddie  would  be 
home  to  meet  her. 

They  spent  much  time  together  searching  out 
the  literature  of  Missions.  Herbert  was  desirous 
of  reading  up  on  some  of  these  lines,  and  Olive 
seemed  never  weary  of  assisting  him,  eagerly  seizing 
every  item  tliat  referred  in  the  remotest  manner  to 
Africa,  its  climate,  inhabitants,  geography.  They 
drew  maps  and  arranged  facts,  and  each  morning, 
upon  her  knees,  she  took  the  "  prescriptions " 
Stanton   had  left  her,  until  at  last  their  healing 


i irifwa^.'v W»Jiwt' kJ'.^l-T^ •TT'tf*""^  V^""*  '^■■'1^'^r^.riSi'. tttw . rt Sirirr^* v 


'tr^* 


w 


ippiF*! 


LL,  JR. 

ig  of  His  coming 
work,"  extending 
ting  it. 

t  home."  What 
I  ho  think  for  a 
Ud  interfere  with 
le  of  the  bitterest 
ey  were  not  going 
ow  speedily.  In 
fgressive  work  to 
light  not  be   out- 

1  plans  with  his 
so  interested  her 
t  great  world  into 
jared.  He  was  a 
ttitude  toward  his 
was  eager  to  hear 
ote  to  her  herself, 
her  to  come  about 
I  Eddie  would  be 

her  searching  out 
ibert  w.os  desirous 
i  lines,  and  Olive 
im,  eagerly  seizing 
jmotest  manner  to 
geography.  They 
md  each  morning, 
)  "  prescriptions  " 
last  their  healing 


AN  ACVIDENT. 


175 


reached  her  heart  and  the  symptoms  of  a  robuster 
life  began  to  ajjpear. 

How  time  drags  when  we  wait  for  its  going  I 
How  wearily  tliey  watched  for  the  fu-st  line  from 
the  traveller  announcing  his  arrival  in  Liverpool. 
They  counted  the  days  and  weeks  until  a  letter 
from  the  coast  informed  them  that  liis  feet  were 
on  African  soil.  Then,  after  months,  came  the 
word  th.it  he  had  reached  his  destination  and  wivs 
beginning  his  acquaintance  with  the  natives  and 
the  language. 

These  letters  were  all  addressed  to  llerbei-t. 
The  wistfulness  witli  which  Olive  lead  them  smote 
her  brother's  heart,  as  also  the  questioning  in  her 
eyes  when  he  opened  each  fresh  epistle  as  if  it 
must  hold  something  for  her.  They  did  bring  her 
kind  words  of  remembrance,  but  she  wanted  some- 
thing more,  a  letter  of  her  own. 

"Hadn't  you  better  write  Stanton  a  ^^  'nes 
and  enclose  it  in  my  letter,  Princess  ? "  said  her 
brother  one  day.  "  He  must  be  wondering  why 
you  do  not  write.  I  think  he  told  me  you  promised 
to  correspond  with  him." 

"  Ought  not  he  to  write  first?" 

"  Certainly  not.  And  even  so,  imagine  any  of  us 
standinf  on  etiquette  with  Stanton !  You  did  not 
extract  a  promise  from  him,  but  he  from  you.  He 
is  waiting,  he  will  only  take  such  liberties  as  are 
accorded  him,  but  a  few  words  from  3'ou  will 
greatly  cheer  him,  I  know.  Suppose  you  tell  him 
tlie  truth,  dear." 


! 


" .  ^V^■SiSi^i4fc^4;7"^i  .'•^■''i'--'' "'*'>^*^i'**S'!*">^tw  •■'' 


^-=:*.i-,^s-^..-iiiji!y.*Bt3*ii'^imvjiH*iitiaSi'ii^9'ii'.-i^ 


MllU.lfllllip>M^II^|||i| 


<!,^i>iyff 


170 


lIKUliElil  GMWKNKLL,  JR. 


"  I  don't  believe  I  can,  Herl)ert.  I've  tried,"  she 
whiH[)eied. 

"  Well,  suppose  I  write  it  for  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Herbert,  not  foi-  the  world  I  No  one  ought 
to  tell  him  but  nie.     Don't  hiiit  it,  please." 

She  wrote  liini  a  stiff  little  note  quite  unlike 
those  sent  Iiiui  in  college  days.  The  young 
missionar-  smiled  as  he  read  the  very  proper  lK!gin- 
ning  and  ending  of  this  epistle.  IIo  could  not 
know,  though  he  more  thiin  half  guessed,  wliat  she 
told  Lee,  that  the  more  she  felt  the  less  she  could 
express,  that  her  love  seemed  to  choke  the  utter- 
anc(i  of  even  pleasant,  common  things. 

The  q.ieer little  letter  had  a  postscript,  however — 
Olive  was  fond  of  po8tscrij)ts — which  went  far 
towards  redeeming  it. 

"  I've  written  this  over  and  over  but  it  won't 
sound  light  and  you  won't  like  it.  I'd  burn  it 
up  if  there  was  any  hope  of  my  doing  better,  but 
there  isn't.  But,  O  Stanton,  I  miss  you  and  think 
of  yoti  every  day,  and  am  trying  truly  to  do  what 
you  asked  and  to  be  wiiat  you  would  like  best. . 
Won't  vou  please  write  to  me  ? 

"  Ollie." 

He  did  \rrite,  kind,  brotherly  letters  that 
were  as  dear  to  her  as  life,  and  which  she  wore  as 
close  to  her  heart  as  he  did  her  pictured  face. 
If  he  had  only  known,  if  he  could  have  believed 
her  expressions  of  friendship  were  something  other 
than  regret  over  the  sorrow  and  disappointment  she 
had  caused  him ;  or  the  natural  regard  for  an  old 


Wif»»^P*W(ir^'.  .Wa«;'.^r-^J»l!!TVW>»*'T^-!Ht*JrtW*^'.-'il^^  iBaf»fiefiSta?.'-iwWvVB**«^3*to«j^^ 


'■:-f 


!W 


'Lf  HHflji 


wm* 


,JR. 

I've  tried,"  she 

u?" 

I     No  one  ought 

please," 

to  quite  unlike 
\.  The  young 
ry  {iiopcr  lx!gin- 

IIo  could  not 
lessed,  what  she 
e  leiis  she  could 
jlioke  the  utter- 
rigs. 

jript,  however — 
vliich   went  far 


rer  but  it  won't 
it.  I'd  burn  it 
oing  better,  but 
8  you  and  think 
trull/  to  do  what 
vould  like  best. . 

"  Ollie." 

ly  letters  that 
bich  she  wore  as 
r  pictured  face. 
d  have  believed 
something  other 
appointment  she 
egard  for  an  old 


tmm 


AN  ACCIDENT. 


■iwmwi 


177 


acquaintance  separated  by  distance,  and  therefore 
romantically  exalted  in  her  opinion  he  might  have 
set  her  heart  at  rest. 

Lee,  who  knew  more  of  the  case  than  any  one 
else,  had  suggested,  as  Herbert  did,  that  she  write 
Stanton  the  facts.  "  He  Ixjing  what  he  is  and 
loving  you  as  he  does,  no  harm  could  come  from 
that." 

But  Olive  shi-ank  from  the  thought.  "  It  is  im- 
possible. I  have  tried,  the  very  look  of  the  bald  un- 
varnished truth  frightened  me.  I  burned  the  sheet. 
If  he  were  here  I  might  say  it  some  time,  anything 
so  near  the  hoa.  *•  might  slip  over  the  lips  utiaware. 
But  to  write  it  co.-nl  I  cannot.  It  isn't  down 
when  I  write  it.     I  have  lost  my  faculty." 

Fredrica  Avas  really  coming  to  visit  the  Gaiden- 
eJls.  It  had  been  impossible  at  Christmas  time, 
but  was  possible  now.  They  were  to  go  to  Bloom- 
ingle  immediately  after  her  arrival,  for  she  was  to 
enjoy  what  her  mother  assured  her  was  an  "  un- 
tenable treat,"  a  summer  at  the  dear  old  resort. 
Olive  wrote  Lee  in  a  little  flutter  of  vanity. 

"  I  have  brought  it  about  myself  and  you  must 
come  and  see  her,  thougli  I  shall  never  love  her  as 
I  do  you  if  she  is  twice  my  sister."  The  arrange- 
ments once  made,  Olive  counted  the  days  before 
lier  appearance. 

"  To-morrow,"  she  said  to  Herbert,  *'  to-morrow. 
Think  of  it,  only  one  more  t  ly  to  wait.  Are  you 
not  glad?" 

"Indeed  I  am,'"  answered  her  brother,  "gUiddest 


»-3tte4'tti^j»n9fr^^i^^»r 


(^^.■^WSS^ '^***^i^*»*fi**'^^ 


178 


UERUERT  GMlbENELL,  JR. 


of  ull  bocauso  my  little  Histor  is  so  ready  to  pieet 
her.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  love  and  tlmnk 
you,"  regarding  her  fondly,  "for  taking  liea  into 
your  heart  for  my  sake." 

"  But  it  ian't  for  your  Hako,"she  replied  flushing, 
"and  I  am  not  to  bo  praised  at  all.  I  promised 
Stanton  to  love  hi^r  for  hig  sake,  and  *  ilo." 

"  The  Lord  bless  him  !  "  said  lli-rbert  fervently, 
08  he  stooped  to  kiss  his sister'a  hot  cheek,  "ho  en- 
riches all  he  touches."  Before  he  slept  tiiat  night 
he  despatched  a  letter,  a  few  lines  of  which  read 
thus : 

"  I  shall  see  Ilea  to-morrow  and  bless  you  in  Africa 
for  the  privilege.  Olive  has  so  opened  her  heart 
it  has  prepared  the  way  for  the  visit,  and  she  has 
told  me  the  secret  of  her  interest.  I)t  u-,  luisellish 
friend,  I  wish  I  were  like  you.  With  neither  time 
or  seKishness  to  push  your  own  suit  you  yet  found 
opportunity  to  help  mine.  Let  me  assure  you  God 
is  caring  for  yours." 


To-morrow !  It  never  c  ^mes.  But  that  Wed- 
nesday morning  dawned  as  brightl}'^  as  if  it  did. 
Herbert  Gardeuell,  Jr.,  with  happy  face  and  light 
heart,  kissed  his  mother  and  sister  and  took  the 
train  for  an  adjoining  town  where  he  was  to  meet 
his  beloved. 

Horace  Germaine  and  Mr.  Gardenell  were  riding 
through  the  streets  of  the  city  that  morning  en- 
gaged in  earnest  conversation,  when  the  glaring 
liead-lines  on  a  bulletin-board  before  a  newsjjaper 


-w>»K»<-ai.-««(r*:':vj5-wie«*4at'e.r?»*-«««(rti  iznsxmtMb  wit...»--^gt-T=tt; 


•^rnvtii^KXtia^mK^'n-i  '■v^vafltestwiwiie 


-T- 


,jn. 

>  ready  to  ^veet 

lovo  and  tliaiik 

bilking  lieu  into 

iT4)lic'd  flusliinpi', 
ill.  I  proniised 
id  X  ilo." 
rbert  forvontly, 
/  cheek,  "lie  eii- 
slept  that  night 
I  of  which  read 


388 you  ill  Africa 
jteiied  lier  heart 
sit,  and  aha  lias 
I)(  ir,  unselfish 
ith  neither  time 
it  you  yet  found 
asisure  you  God 


But  that  Wed- 
itl}'^  as  if  it  did. 
y  face  and  light 
iv  and  took  the 

he  was  to  meet 

snell  were  riding 
at  morning  en- 
len  the  glaring 
)re  a  newspaper 


AN  ACVIDENT. 


179 


office  attracted  the  doctor's  attention.  ITc  8toj)pod 
lii-i  home  to  read. 

"  An  accident,"  he  said,  "  and  on  the road." 

Mr.  Gardeneirs  face  grew  white.  "  What  train 
is  it,  Horace?"  he  gasped,  everything  turning  dark 
Ixifore  his  eyes. 

"  The  Western  train,  duo  in  H at  ten-thirty. 

It  is  tlie  one  we  expected  Fredrica  on,  but  there  is 
no  cause  for  alarm,"  he  went  on,  "the  accident 
is  a  sliglit  one." 

"  I  must  go  to  Herbert  at  once,"  said  the  father. 

"  Step  into  the  office  fn-st  and  I  will  give  you 
something,  then  I  will  go  with  you,"  answered  the 
doctor,  drawing  rein  at  his  own  door. 

"A  slight  accident,"  so  read  the  bulletin.  "A 
slight  accident "  reported  all  the  papera.  "  One 
car  damaged,  a  few  persons  injured,  only  one 
killed." 

And  that  one  lay  with  her  pretty  red-brown  hair 
falling  over  and  hiding  the  cruel  gash  on  her  brow, 
her  eyes  half-closed,  the  smile  that  happy  thoughts 
of  a  near  meeting  had  brought  to  lier  lips,  frozen 
upon  them.  Thus  Herbert  Gardenell  found  his 
affianced. 

His  face  was  liardly  less  white  than  hera  when 
he  met  his  father  and  Dr.  Germaine  a  while  after. 
They  had  he.ard  the  truth,  knew  it  all,  he  read  this 
on  their  countenances  as  they  approached.  lie 
was  relieved  to  know  he  need  not  tell  them. 

"  I  have  telegraphed  to  Aunt  Jessie,  father,  I  shall 
take  her  back  on  the  next  train,"  he  said. 


b.- 


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180 


UEltBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JL. 


"  The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  has  taken  away," 
said  the  elder  clergyman  brokenly,  as  he  laid  a 
loving  hand  on  his  son's  shoulder.  It  was  the  son 
himself  who  finished  the  quotation,  through  white 
but  unfaltering  lips.  "  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord." 


1 


»i%gfb'-JMM:^JJ<»i»t5fagji**gJL?.^ 


.L,  Jh. 

has  taken  away," 
Illy,  as  he  hvid  a 
'.  It  was  the  son 
n,  through  white 
16  the  name  of  tlie 


MUM 


A  NEW  FEAR. 


181 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  NEW  FEAU. 

"  But  God  is  God,  my  faithful, 
Of  night  as  well  as  day ; 
And  we  feel  and  know  that  we  can  go 
Wherever  He  leads  the  way." 

— RUMBBANDT  PeALE. 

It  was  Olive  who  wrote  the  sad  news  to  Stanton 
with  a  cry  of  despair  for  herself. 

"  The  Lord  does  not  accept  my  tardy  repent- 
ance. I  have  really  learned  to  love  Rea  since  I 
promised  you  I  would,  and  now  I  shall  never  see 
lier— and  Herbert.  Oh,  Stanton,  what  can  I  do  to 
atone  for  the  past  ?  What  will  Herbert  do  with 
his  broken  heart  ?  " 

"  Take  everything  to  Jesus,"  Stanton  wrote 
back,  but  it  was  so  many  months  before  she  could 
get  his  answer. 

When  it  did  come  Herbert  was  home  again  from 
that  sad  joui-ney  to  the  place  of  his  former  joy, 
from  Aunt  Jessie's  clinging  hands  and  Uncle 
George's  haggard  face.  Back  to  make  ready  for 
another  departure.  For  he  had  no  doubt  this  was 
God's  call  to  sternest  action.    God  did  not  intend 


'!< 


% 


HiMttfi  9»ietMiJiKteeas^snsti»siKn 


BiMwai»Ej*w^ik't'>.i^gijBfa.j»ii«»ffw^>iuaa<i<»i«Witf^^ 


iMiietoiiMi6J4^«stM«ii 


182 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


he  should  dally  over  any  cup  of  earthly  bliss.  He 
needed  him;  the  world  needed  him.  This  wus 
Avhy  He  denied  him  the  joy  of  other  men,  ^hat  he 
might  understand  his  calling  to  liardest  labor  and 
dreariest  places  where  tender  women  and  little 
children  must  not  go. 

There  was  no  murmuring,  no  questioning.  Be- 
fore his  Christ  he  laid  his  bleeding  heart  and  with 
his  all  again  upon  the  altar— for  sacrifice  or  service 
—pleaded  simply  to  know  what  next.  No  bride 
forhim  now  but  Africa,  dark,  lost,  beautiful  Africa! 
Ever  since  he  had  folded  those  white,  white  palms 
over  each  other  in  that  little  railroad  town,  and 
placed  the  cherished  form  in  its  narrow  bed,  he  had 
seen  tliose  other  dusky,  outstretched  hands  beckon- 
ing him  on. 

His  heart  yearned  to  follow  them,  he  giew  impa- 
tient of  delay.  And  then  the  postman  left  a  little 
bit  of  Africa  at  his  door.  He  tore  it  open  eagerly  ; 
he  read  the  burning  woi-ds  of  symimthy  and  love  ; 
the  tender,  helpful,  soulful  words  of  one  who  could 
comfort  because  he  had  himself  been  comforted. 

"They  needed  her  in  heaven.  Nothing  short 
of  need  would  let  the  Father's  heartso  grieve  youis 
Your  choice  was  heaven's  choice  first,  the  wonder- 
ful ripening  you  saw  go  on  in  her  was  i)re|)ara- 
tion,  not  for  Africa  but  Glory.  Oh  I  the  joy  it  must 
be  to  yon  in  your  sorrow  to  have  been  entrusted 
witli  tlie  prepaiation  of  such  a  soul  for  such  a  mis- 
sion. This  IS  wliy  you  met  her,  tliat  you  niiglit 
help  get  her  ready  for  the  King;  this  is  why  you 


■■  ----[-     ..^.j..~^.    -  ^.-^-' , — ^..-...  ^.^^  .,  ■■-^.  ^  -      ^^j^-^.,,,^.^......  ..^,...  .^.^  .^^^.^^.^^^   ..     ^^^^.    ^^^    ^^,.^^  ^    iM  i|ii.nii.i.|(iTjti"Jiil|)'ii 


mmmim^mm^V^ 


LL,  JR. 

earthly  bliss.  He 
J  him.  This  wus 
ther  men,  ^hat  he 
liardest  labor  and 
vomeii   and   little 

questioning.  Be- 
iig  heart  and  with 
sacrifice  or  service 
i  next.  No  bride 
beautiful  Africa! 
hite,  wliite  palms 
ilroad  town,  and 
irrow  bed,  he  had 
led  hands  beckon- 

ni,he  grew  inipa- 
itman  left  a  little 
>  it  open  eagerly  ; 
ipatliy  and  love ; 
of  one  who  could 
Jen  comforted. 


Nothing  short 
t so  grieve  youis. 
irst,  the  wondei-- 
her  was  prepara- 
1  I  the  joy  it  must 
I  been  entrusted 
1  for  such  a  niis- 
tliat  you  might 
this  is  why  you 


A  .VJPir  FEAlt. 


188 


loved  her,  because  she  so  resembled  Him  whose 
you  are  and  whom  you  serve," 

All  that  one  mortal  could  pen  to  cheer  and  com- 
fort another  that  .better  seemed  to  hold.  Near  the 
close  were  these  words. 

"  I  am  praying  much  for   you.     The  time  of 
sorrow  may  be  also  the   time  of  extreme    i)eril. 
lie  very  quiet  and  restful ;  do  not  hasten  to  do  any- 
tliing  but  pray.     You  will  want  to  run  away  fiom 
your  sorrow ;  God  may  want  you  to  give  it  loom 
and  let  it  blossom  in  your  heart.     Be  not  jjiecipi- 
tate,  be  sure  you  find  His  Avill,  finding  it  I  know 
you  will  do  it.     He  has  so:  ,e  purpose  for    i/ou  in 
all  this.  ^  It  is  so  difficult  for  us  sometimes  to  real- 
ize   God's  thought  for  us,  it  so  outreaches  our 
thought  for  ourselves.     You  will  want  me  now,  and 
oh,  how  I  should  rejoice  to  chisp  you  I     May  not 
His  will  for  you,  for  me,  as  far  out-strip  our  con- 
ception of  it  as  He  has  proven  His  will  was  for  Rea  ? 
After  all  the  only  thing  you  and  I  need  be  careful 
for  is  to  let  His  will  be  done.     Herv,  dear  old  fel- 
low, keep  tenderest  guard  over  father.     I  jud^re 
from  his  late  letters  it  would  be  very  easy  for  him 
to  slip  into  glory  some  day  unawares  and  leave  us 
orphaned." 

"  Keep  guard  over  father!  "  Somehow  the  sen- 
tence startled  the  reader.  "Keep  guard  over 
father  1 "  He  looked  at  the  loved  form  out  of  new 
eyes  as  they  sat  at  the  late  dinner-table.  Was  he 
mistaken  or  did  the  dear  face  look  white  and  wan? 
Had  he  been  so  selfishly  wrapped  up  in  his  own 
sorrow  as   to   forget  those  about  him?    Was  he 


rj»ij^iii,i^^Sn9tifi^ms>^e^amafi!^i--t^ 


l^B^f-«*«-irMfci*r-i>'^*ntj»!'*'«***?,.t'-j«V»IS*6»»IU»»»l*;  'V.;'«6r#i,Vfttf»,!ei,-^3.--ii*rf>fc     iA-dJAr 


mf 


"W. 


m 


WWW>v' 


^m 


184 


HERBERT  GAUDENELL,  JR. 


planning  work  ahead  and  letting  this  most  sacred 
work  at  his  hand,  of  caring  for  his  own,  go  neg- 
lected ?     He  followed  hia  father  to  the  stud)'. 

"  Are  you  feeling  quite  well,  father?  "  he  asked 
perching  himself  on  the  arm  of  tlie  great  chair  where 
he  had  so  often  sat.  It  hrought  his  eyes  above  liis 
father's  head,  and  noting  the  silver  threads  so 
thickly  sprinkled  there  his  heart  smote  him. 

"  I  think  I  am  as  well  as  usual."  The  gentle, 
patient  words  falling  like  a  rebuke  on  the  young 
man's  heart.  "  Did  you  come  to  talk  over  your 
future  with  me,  my  son  ?" 

"  I  think  I  will  not  trouble  3'ou  with  myself  to- 
night, fatlier,  you  seem  wear}-."' 

"  Never  too  weary  to  listen  to  yo;',  Herbert ;  you 
never  trouble  me,  my  bay."  Oh,  how  true  I  Tears 
sprang  to  the  son's  eyes.  The  peculiarly  tender 
solicitude  of  his  father's  manner  towards  him  in 
his  sorrow  had  touched  him  deeply  before.  Now 
he  stooped  and  pressed  his  lips  on  the  graying  hair. 

"  Tiie  best  father  God  ever  gave  to  any  man," 
he  said.  "  I  am  not  sure  I  have  any  plins.  '  I  am 
not  capable  of  making  them.  I  think  I  will  take 
Stanton's  advice  and  keep  quiet,  trusting  a  Higher 
to  plan  for  and  divulge  His  plans  to  me." 

"  A  wise  decision  for  a  finite  being  to  make.  I — 
I  feared"  the  word  falling  almost  apologetically 
from  his  lips,  "  that  you  might  have  set  your  heart 
on  Africa." 

"  It  has  been  there  for  years,  father.  If  God  will 
send  me  there  it  will  be  truest  joy.     It  is  only  to 


■  j.»jt..-.v.j,.w^^^jn-..,.~.».„.».»,»^.„.  » .-.- „.j^ . ,...  .^---.. ^j-— ^^:--.^.,--.j^..;^^.^^^-  ^^^  |-|---| mil'  "  ^f^^^■  n-||.,|. 


y  I    11.1  jg 


i^^Pis 


mr. 


fmw 


ILL,  JR. 

g  this  most  sacred 
hia  own,  go  neg- 
■  to  the  stud^. 
father  ?  "  he  asked 
le  great  chair  where 
-  his  eyes  above  liis 
silver  threads  so 
D  smote  him. 
ual."  The  gentle, 
uke  on  the  young 
to  talk  over  your 

3U  with  myself  to- 

yo;',  Herbert;  you 
,  how  true  I    Tears 

peculiarly  tender 
r  towards  him  in 
eply  before.  Now 
u  tlie  graying  hair, 
jave  to  any  man," 

any  plans.  '  I  am 
'  think  I  will  take 
,  trusting  a  Higher 
IS  to  me." 
eing  to  make.  I — 
lost  apologetically 
lave  set  your  heart 

ither.    If  God  will 
joy.     It  is  only  to 


A  NEW  FEAB. 


185 


tliy  that  the  suggestion  has  come  that  possibly  God 
may  will  some  other  thing  for  me.  It  has  set  me 
:it  sea ;  I  have  lost  all  my  bearings.  I  can  only 
pray  and  wait  to  see  whereto  this  leads." 

Tliere  was  no  answer.  There  was  something, 
liowever.  A  gasp  as  if  for  breath,  the  upward 
heaving  of  a  chest  and  head,  as  if  for  life,  and 
Herbert  was  on  his  feet,  beside  his  father. 

He  did  not  ring  the  bell ;  he  remembered  his 
mother.  He  carried  the  dear  form  to  the  couch  and 
chafed  the  chilled  hands.  He  brought  water  and 
Kinelling-salts,  applying  one  to  his  head,  the  other 
to  hia  nostrils.  He  felt  for  his  heart ;  it  was  flutter- 
ing feebly ;  suddenly  it  leaped  beneath  his  hand  and 
the  eyes  opened. 

The  sick  man  pohited  to  the  shelf  and  whisper- 
ed, "  Behind  the  picture — I  am  better,"  trying  to 
sinile.  It  was  a  bottle.  Herbert  counted  the  drops 
numbered  on  the  label,  mixed  them  with  water  and 
administered  them.  Then  he  sat  down  to  watch 
beside  the  patient  until  the  ashen  hue  gave  place 
to  one  less  like  death,  and  his  father  tried  to  rise. 

"  Lie  still,"  said  hia  son  peremptorily,  "  you 
must  not  try  to  exert  youraelf." 

The  gentleman  smiled.  "  I  am  better  and  exer- 
tion up  to  a  certain  point  cannot  harm  me.  This  is 
nothing  new  or  strange  however  alarming,  Her- 
bert." 

"  And  3'ou  have  kept  it  to  yourself,  knowing  you 
iright  die  in  one  of  these  attacks  ?  "  reproachfully. 

"  There  has  seemed  no  proper  time  to  divulge 


Mtmtiimsifimisiemsss^mimtwim' 


ft  trintViemrf^^.iiiM'im^  >■« 


im 


IIEUBKHT  OAllDENELL,  JR. 


fil 


the  secret.  I  was  not  aware  of  tlie  seriousness  of 
my  condition,  thougli  suspecting  it  for  some  time, 
until  just  as  your  mof'  n-  became  so  feeblo.  Since 
then  so  many  things  have  happened,  I  have  not 
had  grace  to  add  this  to  the  rest." 

"  So  long  ago,"  groaned  his  son  in  dismay. 
"  Something  might  have  been  done  if  attempted 
sooner." 

His  father  put  out  his  hand  and  drew  his  son 
closer  to  him.  "  All  has  been  done  that  could  be 
done,"  he  said.  "  I  have  consulted  many  com- 
petent iihysieians.  They  all  tell  me  what  Horace 
told  me  in  the  beginning — no  hope." 

To  say  the  listener  was  smitten,  is  speaking 
feebly.     He  felt  his  life  going  out  in  anguish. 

"  So  bad  as  that,"  he  moaned. 

"So  bad  as  that  or  so  good  as  that,  whichever 
way  we  choose  to  meet  God's  will,"  answered  the 
father.  "  My  son,  I  would  not  lift  my  finger,  if  by 
so  doing  I  could  purchase  liealth  contrary  to  His 
will." 

"Does  Stanton  know  this?" 

"  He  knows  my  peril  and  its  extremity ;  he  had 
to  know.  Horace  would  not  let  me  share  my 
heart's  blood  with  your  mother.  Stanton  knew  the 
reason." 

A  groan  was  the  only  answer  ;  forgive  the  young 
man  if  at  that  moment  he  felt  earth  very  dark. 

"You  were  ill  at  the  time,  you  will  remember, 
my  son.  Ray  was  away,  the  boys  too  young  to  be 
weighted  prematurely,  Olive  already  sorely  bur- 


'!*iC3«««Baiwsapa».a»a«iSS!S!«-i'»i«ss!i;ji«^^ 


mfm 


■iW 


.VNMPIR 


1 


fELL,  JR. 

if  tlio  seriousness  of 
iiig  it  for  some  time, 
ine  so  feeblo.  Siiico 
iippened,  I  liavo  not 

St." 

his  son  in  dismay. 
11  done  if  attempted 

d  and  drew  his  son 
done  that  could  be 
msulted  many  Corn- 
ell me  what  Horace 
iiopo." 

mitten,  is   speaking 
out  in  anguish. 
i. 

lI  as  that,  whichever 
will,"  answered  the 
i  lift  my  finger,  if  by 
vlth  contrary  to  His 


I  extremity ;  he  had 

t  let  nie  share  my 

Stanton  knew  the 

;  forgive  the  young 
earth  very  dark, 
'ou  will   remember, 
oys  too  young  to  be 
already  sorely  bur- 


A  NEW  FEAIt. 


187 


dened  foryoui-self  and  mamma.  You  will  see  how 
peculiarly  I  was  situated,  Herbert.  I  pledged 
Stanton  to  secrecy." 

Herbert  dropped  on  liis  knees  l)eforo  the  couch, 
and  drew  his  father's  head  to  liis  breast.  "  And  I 
have  been  so  selfishly  swallowed  up  in  my  own  joys 
and  sorrow.-  that  I  have  had  no  eyes  for  your  need  ; 
may  God  forgive  me.  And  now,  father,  if  you  love 
me,  let  all  the  weight  of  your  life  rest  on  me. 
Let  me  lift  it  and  you  while  I  may." 

"  Thank  you,  my  precious  son,  now,  as  always, 
my  pride  and  comfort.  There  is,  there  never  will 
be,  any  reason  for  you  to  berate  youi-self.  I  have 
not  suffered  much.  I  have  been  able  to  liide  it 
fiom  your  mother.  U  her  gentle  heart  has  not 
taken  alarm,  wliy  should  yours  ? 

"  Sometimes  I  feel  the  a])proach  of  these  attacks 
in  time  to  take  my  medicine  and  thus  neutralize  or 
minimize  the  effect.  When  they  have  overtaken 
me  suddenly  God  has  graciously  provided  for  me. 
I  have  never  had  a  severe  attack  outside  of  these 
walls.  I  have  dreaded  this  revelation  for  you  all, 
especially  for  you,  Herbert,  since  it  would  seem  to 
interfere  with  the  dearest  object  of  your  life,  the 
preaching  of  tlie  Gospel  in  other  lands." 

"  Father,  I  will  stay  at  home,  I  will  do  anything 
you  vish." 

"  No,  my  son.  You.  are  not  your  own  or  mine, 
but  God's.  You  will  do  as  He  wishes.  You  have 
said  to-night  that  the  thought  has  suggested  itself 
to  you  that  possibly  He  might  mean  sometliing  for 


imim»ismmi!m.«s^f«!mmtk 


"W 


J 


188 


HKRIiERT  OABDENELL,  JR. 


your  life  Iwside  Africa.  I  think  He  may.  We  can 
ask  Him.  H  the  End — or  the  Hegiiininu — is  an 
near  as  I  sometimes  think,  with  Harry  nnd  Eddie 
yet  unprepared  for  life,  and  mamma  and  Olive  as 
they  are,  it  may  be — mark,  I  only  say  may  be, 
Herbert — that  God  does  will,  for  awhile  at  least, 
that  you  tarry.  It  would  bo  a  joy  to  me,  Herbert, 
I  .idmit,  if  I  could  know  tiio  home  would  remain 
as  it  is,  for  the  present,  that  your  mother  might 
not  miss  too  much  at  once,  if  this  "  other  self  "  l 
mine  as  she  loves  to  call  you,  could  hold  and  cher- 
ish her  until  a  little  stronger  grown  and  able 
to  st^nd  alone.  Nay,  do  not  answer  me,"  laying 
a  hand  on  his  son's  lips.  "  Wait  until  God  teaches 
you  what  He  would  have  you  say.  To  mamma  as 
to  me  His  will  is  first  and  always  best." 

"  Dear  mamma,"  Herbert  whispered,  overcome 
by  thought  of  her  coming  sorrow.  "  She  ought  to 
know,  father,  to  be  prepared." 

"  I  will  tell  her  myself,"  his  father  answered. 
"  The  time  has  come  since  it  has  been  revealed  to 
you." 


4'^«tS»#CHs«J5W!Raa,'!iS«'<i»5BrW«K^^ 


wifmmm 


'wmji 


'E/.fy,  JR. 

k  He  may.  We  can 
10  negiiininp— is  iw 
,Ii  Ilivrry  nnd  Eddie 
liimma  and  Olive  as 
[  only  say  may  be, 
for  awhile  at  least, 
joy  to  me,  Herbert, 
liouie  would  remain 
your  mother  might 
his  "  other  self  "  t 
lould  hold  and  cher- 
3r  grown  and  able 
answer  me,"  laying 
lit  until  God  teaches 
say.  To  mamma  as 
lys  best." 

vhispered,  overcome 
)w.    "  She  ought  to 

is  father  answered, 
las  been  revealed  to 


TUE  BORDER  LAND. 


189 


CHAPTER  XVHI. 

THEBOUDEULAND. 

"  No  human  Angers  wrought  the  golden  gates  which  opened, 
sudden,  still  and  wide. 
My  fear  was  hushed  by  my  delight. 

Surpassing  fair  the  lands  ;  my  path  lay  plain." 

— IIki.en  Hunt. 

"  The  soul  will  put  her  quiet  house  to  rights 
And  In  the  upper  chamber  watcli  the  dawn." 

— .rAMES  BUCKIIAM. 

Mrs.  Gaedenell  was  sitting  alone  in  the  dusk  of 
her  room  ;  a  habit  of  here.  She  loved  the  twilight, 
the  hour  she  used  to  give  to  the  children ;  it  laid 
become  her  daily  communion  hour.  Not  so  much 
a  time  for  what  we  call  prayer  as  for  holding  her 
heart  up  close  to  God's,  resting  herself  in  His  love. 
Her  husband  loved  to  spend  that  hour  beside  lier, 
lie  always  knew  just  where  and  how  he  would  Hnd 
her  at  the  close  of  every  day.  He  opened  the  door 
now. 

"  Yensie.' 

"Yes,  love." 

■  Mjvy  I  come  in  ?  " 
•Surely." 

"  I  trust  I  shall  not  bring  in  one    disturbing 


ttu^auxrai 


ippm 


\w 


iikuhkut  OAnnKSKU.,  .in. 


thotifrlit,"  lie  Haiil  m  hIir  roso,  and  drawing  him  to 
liui'  low  clitiir,  Hivt  at  Iiis  f(!ct,  hur  liuud  nii  his  kiioe. 

"  You  iicvt'i'  <h),"  Hh('  aiiswcrcil,  as  lio  Htrokctl 
poiitly  with  his  hand  thts  sol't  hair  from  hcM*  hrow. 

Tlioy  \/ero  quiot  for  a  fnw  minutes  and  then  ho 
Kaid,  "  I  havo  a  now  rtializatiou  of  huavcn,  dear. 
It  HctMus  vmy  nearof  hvtc — honiclikc, — almost  as  if 
1  had  \n'\i\\  heyond  the  pates  aja»  uiiu  knew  some- 
thing of  its  atniosi)heie." 

She  did  not  Bfieak,  she  only  drow  his  hand  to 
lier  li[)S  reverently. 

"  Yensie,  you  and  I  have  found  the  will  of  Tod 
tlie  sweetest  thing  of  life  ?  " 

"The  sweetest  thing  of  life,"  she  assented. 

"Even  when,  sometimes,  for  a  little  while,  we 
hardly  aj)prehended  it  as  sueh  and  it  seemed 
adverse  and  strange  ?  " 

Again  she  assented. 

"  Sometimes,"  he  went  on,  "  God  gives  us  long- 
ings for  things  l>ecau80  Ho  is  longing  to  give  them 
to  us.  Begets  in  us  desires  that  lie  may  satisfy 
them." 

She  did  not  reply.  All  her  being  had  suddenly 
taken  eais  to  cateh  the  next  word  he  might  drop. 

"  I  think,  peihaps,  oh  yes,  I  knmv  that  is  why  He 
is  r.iaking  me  so  familiar  with  heaven.  That  know- 
ing it  I  may  not  miss  earth,  not  grieve  to  leave  it." 

He  felt  her  start  under  his  hand  and  soothed  her 
with  a  toueh. 

"  Yensie,  my  heart's  darling,  truest  wife,  you 
have  always  met  my  spirit's  liighest  aspirations 


■W't..«Mefe«»j^asi(S«AeaB'rw«i*w«»5»rBKi*a>Bas^^ 


PIPiil 


■WpjliUJUiiiiU! 


"f^ 


fKLh,  J II. 

and  (Imwiiip  him  to 
ur  litnid  nil  liis  kiico. 
rcrcd,  as  lio  strokcil 
liiiir  from  lior  hniw. 
ninutcs  iiiid  then  liu 
oil  of  lioiiviMi,  dear. 
iH'likc, — almost  as  if 
ija.  Kiiii  kiiuw  Hotno- 

y  drew  Iiim  hand   to 

iiid   tlio  will  of  Tod 

"  sho  assented. 

»r  a  little  wliile,  wo 

ich   and    it    soemed 


"  God  gives  us  long- 
iiiging  to  give  them 
hat  lie  may  satisfy 

being  had  suddenly 
k'ovd  he  might  drop. 
knoiv  that  is  why  lie 
eaven.  Thatknow- 
t  grieve  to  leave  it." 
and  and  soothed  licr 

g,  truest  wife,  you 
liighest  aspirations 


TIIK  UOHDEU  LAM). 


J  01 


hrforo  I  voiced  them  ;  held  mo  to  uoi  from  Ood's 
iK-'st;  helped  not  hindered  mo  in  roa(!hingtlie  fullest 
expression  of  His  will.  You  will  not  falter  now 
if  Ho  is  rijady  for  mo  first?     I  think  He  needs  me." 

She  did  not  start  now,  nor  speak,  nor  weep,  nor 
sigh.  Sho  held  hei-self  still  lost  she  should  fail 
him  in  this  supremo  hour  of  Ids  life. 

"I  have  btion  wanting  to  tell  you  this,  yet  not 
knowing  how.  If  you  couliJ  .,eo  iv\  I  see,  love, 
you  would  lojoico.  I  am  gla  .  now  that  you  know, 
hocauso  Ho  can  ^-eveal  Himself  to  you  in  a  now 
way,  teach  you  what  Ho  could  not  before,  while 
you  did  not  know  this  hit  of  His  will.  Darling,  I 
have  been  living  for  a}(!ar  on  the  v(!ig(!  of  eternity. 
I  have  gone  to  bed  every  night  and  gone  forth 
every  morning  not  certain  but  the  next  hour  would 
usher  mo  into  the  glory  of  His  seen  presence." 

"  HerI)ort,  why  did  you  not  1  't  me  die  when  I 
was  so  near  the  other  shore?"  The  low  voice 
trembled  a  little. 

"  Can  you  ask  ?  While  tliere  was  any  ministry 
for  you  hero  wonhl  you  care  or  dare  to  miss  it? 
Would  not  yon,  would  not  I,  consider  it  wrong  to 
die  while  it  was  possible  to  live?  The  imjjossi- 
bility  makes  clear  His  next  will  and  our  next  duty, 
:itiy,  our  next  pleasure.  Love,  everything  is  priv- 
ilege which  God  wills  for  us  and  Christ  shares 
with  us.  I  have  covoted  for  you  this  privilege, — 
to  walk  with  me  through  the  valley.  The  mount- 
ain heights  are  so  fair  and  lofty  ;  the  light  stream- 
ing between  their  rugged  peaks  so  pure  and  radi- 


SiSSWi' 


mmmmmmm 


192 


IlERIiERT  GAHDENELL,  Jll. 


H!     ' 


ant :  the  quiet  so  intense  ;  not  a  ripple  of  p.-ission 
or  desire ;  the  fellowship  so  real,  like  AdaniV  when 
he  walked  with  God  in  the  dusk  at  the  close  of 
day. 

"  In  the  dusk,  Yensie,  that  the  glory  might  ho 
veiled  which  seen  in  its  fulness  must  slay  the 
beholder.  Love,  I  think  I  comprehend  how  Moses 
died.  It  was  of  answered  prayer.  He  had  cried 
to  behold  God's  glory.  All  prayer  is  answered 
some  day.  As  soon  as  Jehovah  could  fit  another 
for  his  nlace ;  could  find  excuse  to  take  him,  lie 
led  Moses  to  the  mountain's  top  and  uncovered  His 
face.  Yensie,  Moses  died  of  rapture — the  rapture 
of  a  soul  that  at  last  sees  God. 

"  I  know  something  of  it,  I  have  glimpses  of  His 
loveliness ;  full  vision  is  at  hand.  You  have  sliared 
my  best  with  me  the  years  that  are  past,  darling, 
I  want  to  share  with  you  all  I  can  of  this." 

"  I  am  ready,  Herbert,"  she  said,  and  her  voice 
was  calm  as  her  little  palm  crept  into  his.  "Hold 
my  hand  as  long  as  you  can,  I  will  not  shrink.  I 
would  like  to  walk  with  you  all  the  way  if  I 
could." 

"  If  God  willed,"  he  corrected.  "  You  love  His 
will  best,  Yensie." 

"  I  love  His  will  best,  Herbert,"  she  made  reply. 
"  Even  better  than  I  love  you." 

'•  Can  you  sing  for  me,  love,  or  are  you  weary  ? 
There  has  been  one  hymn  in  my  mind  all  day : 
'  My  Jesus,  as  Thou  wilt ! ' " 

She  rose  quietly  and  went   to  the  organ.     Into 


:^-in»(.X'V».;.'Si3».qs:E:;-f?rs:;S5^(ja{t^ 


ELL,  JR. 

a  ripple  of  passion 
1,  like  AdaniV  when 
usk  at  the  uloso  of 

the  glory  might  Lo 
ess  must  slay  tho 
prehend  how  Moses 
lyer.  He  had  cried 
prayer  is  answered 
ih  could  fit  another 
36  to  take  him,  IIo 
and  uncovered  His 
ipture — the  rapture 

ave  glimpses  of  His 
1.  Yon  have  shared 
t  are  past,  darling, 
can  of  this." 

said,  and  her  voice 
pt  into  his.     "  Hold 

will  not  shrink.  I 
11  all  the  way  if  I 

id.     "  You  love  His 


THE  BORDER  LAND, 


103 


the  room  below,  wliere  Herbert  sat  praying,  came 
the  sweet,  clear  tones,  tremulous  at  firat,  but  gain- 
ing power  as  they  rose,  and  presently  he  heard  his 
father's  voice  chime  with  them. 

He  held  his  mother  close  to  his  bosom  that  night 
when  she  came  to  him  before  retiring.  He  read 
in  the  depths  of  her  dark  eyes,  and  the  pallor  of 
her  face  the  intensity  of  the  agony  under  which  she 
staggered. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  "mother,"  the  tenderness  of 
his  utterance  bringing  tears  to  her  eyes. 

"  The  cup  which  my  Father  hath  given  me,  sl;all 
I  not  drink  it?"  she  whispered.  "Though  He 
slay  me  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him." 

"  He  will  not  slay,  mother.  His  rod  and  staff 
comfort.  It  is  only  the  shadow  of  death  in  tlie 
valley,  you  need  fear  no  evil." 

"  Sorrow  is  not  necessarily  evil,  Herliert,"  she 
murmured.     "  It  is  often  disguised  good." 

"  It  can  only  be  highest  good  for  father,"  faltered 
the  son. 

"  Then  it  must  be  for  me,"  she  answered.     "  Nay, 
it  shall  be.     I  claim  it  in  His  name." 
13 


rt,"  she  made  reply. 

or  are  you  weary  ? 
.  my  mind  all  day  : 

0  the  organ.     Into 


m.ymjuuiLm '.'■"■wpmp" 


iiiaiiPilMPilii 


104 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


NOT  AFRICA  BUT  JESUS. 


"  May  not  part  of  the  preparation  for  M'ork  be  the  mental 
discipline  of  imagined  postponements  ?  " 

— Gkoijge  MacDonald. 

"  The  battle  is  too  close  around  us  for  us  to  understand  how 
the  day  is  going — we  are  not  higli  enougli  to  see  ?  " 

— Mns.    CUAKLEB. 

How  calmly,  quietly  beautiful  were  the  days 
that  followed  1 

Herbert  studied  constantly  liow  to  lift  all  care 
from  bis  father's  shoulders,  his  wife  followed  him 
like  his  shadow.  They  were  truly  inseparable. 
A  mightj'  yearning  to  walk  with  her  husband  to 
the  very  verge  of  eternity,  to  share  with  him  ever}' 
drop  of  his  cup  she  might  had  seized  Yensie  Gar- 
denell's  soul,  and  she  was  ever  beside  him,  her 
hand  in  his,  her  eyes  on  his  face,  her  ears  open  to 
his  slightest  word. 

Olive  found  it  almost  imi)ossible  to  have  one  of 
jier  private  chats  with  her  father  and  hailed  with 
delight  the  arrival  of  callers  one  night  that  detained 
her  mother  in  the  parlor  and  gave  her  the  oppor- 
tunity she  coveted  for  an  hour's  talk  in  the  study. 

Herbert  had  tried  to  prepare  Olive  quietly  for 


''^  m4'mtt»!fimm^:^mfSimS!msst^mimimgmum^m^i«i^imm^mi.^^ 


KOT  AFIIJVA  BUT  JESUS. 


195 


JESUS. 

ir  work  be  (he  mental 

loitGE  MacDonald. 

us  to  understand  how 
gh  to  see  ?  " 

— Mils.    CUAIU.EB. 

ful  were    the  days 

o\v  to  lift  all  care 

wife  followed  him 

truly  inseparable. 

ith  lier  liusband   to 

lare  with  him  ever}' 

seized  Yeiisie  Gar- 

er  beside  him,  her 

;e,  her  ears  open  to 

iible  to  have  one  of 
ler  and  hailed  with 
night  that  detained 
[ave  lier  the  oppor- 
s  talk  in  the  study. 
e  Olive  quietly  for 


the  coming  sorrow,  but  she  would  not  listen. 
Papa  looked  a  little  pale  to  be  sure,  but  no  worse 
than  ho  liad  for  months.  Herbert  should  have 
seen  him  when  mamma  was  sick.  He  w(?uld  soon 
be  better,  he  must  be,  then  she  buret  into  a  tumult 
of  teai-s. 

Tiien  Herbert  turned  comforter,  charging  her, 
however,  to  be  careful  not  to  show  such  emotion 
Ixjfore  her  father  lest  she  hasten  what  she  so  de- 
plored. Then  she  upbiaided  him  with  tiying  to 
rob  her  of  her  last  comfort,  tlie  little  joy  yet 
remaining  to  her  life.  "  God  would  not  be  so  cruel 
as  to  take  papa,  especially  when  he  was  so  good 
and  so  much  needed."  Alas,  her  argument  only 
convinced  her  brother  to  the  contrary.  He  had 
learned  that  goodness  but  proclaimed  fitness  for 
promotion. 

He  reported  his  unsuccess  to  his  father.  "  God  ' 
will  teach  her  in  His  own  way  and  time,"  said  Mr. 
Gardenell  gently.  "  We  cannot  force  lessons  on 
liearts  unready  ;  we  only  wound  them  without 
cause  or  result.  Our  patient  Father  leads  us  each 
as  we  are  able  to  go.  We  all  learn  verj'  much 
the  same  lessons  in  the  eud,  but  by  very  different 
processes  and  degrees." 

Olive  had  watched  her  father  very  closely 
since  that  conversation,  however.  She  had  been 
exercising  great  self-control  also.  The  dear  parent, 
so  near  the  invisible,  underatood  this  and  opened 
his  arms  gladly  that  quiet  eve,  for  one  more  con- 
versation with  his  only  daughter. 


'^ 


msh: 


wmmmfm 


;«^ 


190 


IlEUBEIiT  GAliDEi\ELL,  JR. 


It  was  so  different  from  liia  talk  with  his  wife 
and  son.  Now  lie  was  listener  not  converser,  and 
she  was  very  free  with  liim.  Her  whole  heart  she 
poured  into  his  ears.  Had  she  been  withholding 
anything  from  him  ?  She  would  withhold  it 
no  longer.  The  story  of  her  love  for  Stanton, 
known  to  bo  sure,  but  never  before  acknowledged 
to  any  one  but  Lee  and  HerlHUt — guarded  and  cov- 
ered rather — was  avowed  now.  Not  shamefacedly 
or  guiltily,  but  bravely  and  truly,  and  all  her  fears 
and  uneasiness,  her  consciousness  of  fault  and 
failure  came  with  it. 

As  she  prayed  daily  so  she  talked  that  night,  in 
all  humility  and  reverence.  Pei'haps  the  nearness 
of  her  parent  to  his  Maker  had  so  charged  him  with 
divinity  that  it  was  easy  to  make  utmost  disclosure 
of  self.  She  felt  better  any  way  after  it  wiis  done. 
He  held  her  close  in  a  vital  sympathy  that  com- 
municated it«olf  unspoken  to  hei-  dee[)est  self. 

"You  have  not  confessed  this  to  Stanton  yet?" 

"No,  not  yet,  papa,  I  cannot." 

"You  will  some  day,  darling,  but  do  not  hurry  or 
worry  youi'self.  God  is  working  out  in  you  His 
purpose  for  your  life.  He  will  see  that  it  does  not 
fail  of  perfection  or  fruitage.  All  we  really  need, 
dear,  in  this  world  is  patient  trust." 

"  And  you  are  not  discouraged  with  me,  papa  ? 
You  do  not  think  He  will  let  me  spoil  His  pur- 
pose in  me  ?  " 

"  Never,  dear,  never  while  you  will  to  meet  His 
will." 


'-'!ms»«^.i0^m^!^s 


-;*-,-^.   4;i*&*i*S«^' 


>, 


ELL,  JR. 

3  talk  with  his  wife 
1-  not  couverser,  aiul 
Her  whole  heart  she 
le  been  withholding 
would  withhold  it 
r  h)ve  for  Stanton, 
)uforo  acknowledged 
t — guarded  and  cov- 
Not  shamefacedly 
ily,  and  all  her  fears 
sness    of   fault   and 

talked  that  night,  in 
*ei'haps  the  nearness 
so  charged  him  with 
je  utmost  disclosure 
ivy  after  it  wiis  done. 
sym])athy  that  com- 
101'  deei)est  self, 
is  to  Stanton  yet?  " 

f,  but  do  not  hurry  or 
ing  out  in  you  His 
Isee  that  it  does  not 
All  we  really  need, 
rust." 

ged  with  me,  papa  ? 
t  nie  spoil  His  pur- 

^ou  will  to  meet  His 


NOT  AFIIIVA  BUT  JESUS. 


197 


"  I  do,"  she  whispered.  "  Down  in  the  deepest 
depths  of  my  heart  at  last  I  find  I  do.  All  of  nie 
inserts,  demands,  His  wi)'  fulfilled  in  me,  though 
Home  of  me,  sometimes,  shrinks  from  the  way  Ho 
does  it." 

"  Little  human  blossom  !  "'  lie  kissed  her  fondly. 
"  liomember  what  is  writteri.  '  It  is  God  that, 
worketh  in  you  to  u'ill  and  to  do  of  His  good  pleas- 
ure.' Since  He  already  willn  in  you,  can  you  not 
trust  Him  to  perfect  His  beginning  and  do  in  you 
also  of  His  good  pleasure?  Olive,  my  darling 
child,  accept  not  only  all  that  cc  raes,  as  the  concrete 
of  His  will,  but  take  each  little  happening,  however 
small  or  trying,  each  new  providence,  as  a  fresh 
expression  of  that  will,  as  working  out  His  good 
pleasure." 

"  I  will  try,  papa,"  she  said.  Then  her  mother 
came  in,  and  presently  Herbert  and  they  sat  quite 
a  while  longer  together. 

Herl)ert  filled  an  appointment  for  his  fatlier, 
speaking  on  missions  in  another  city  one  night 
that  week.  But  Mr.  Gardenell  himself  prepared 
and  preached  as  usual  to  his  own  people  on  Sunday. 

Lee  WHS  there  and  heard  that  sermon.  As  she 
pixssed  along  the  walk  after  service,  the  gentleman 
stopped  her  for  a  kind  greeting.  Herbert,  waiting 
with  the  carriage,  saw  only  lier  back  as  she  went 
down  the  street. 

"  That  is  Lee  Erdle}-,"  his  father  said,  as  he 
took  his  seat.  "  You  have  never  met  her,  I  think, 
she  is  a  marvellous  woman.     She  has  been  thanking 


:..  iL'^^;i;iiiar:-W.*;*;/a;. 


198 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


me  for  my  sermon  ;  liow  blessed  is  an  appreciative 
hearer!  I  could  hardly  tell  her  if  I  tried,  how 
much  a  little  sermon  she  preached  in  ir  y  study 
once  did  for  mo.  It  is  short,  perhaps  you  can  learn  it 
by  heart,  Herbert,  it  is  worth  remembering.  Here 
it  is.  '  You  know  wo  are  to  choose  not  ease  but 
His  will : '  How  many  different  things  since  then 
I  have  put  after  that '  not '  even  life,  my  son — but 
by  His  grace  I  have  always  been  enabled  to  add, 
'but  His  Willi'" 

Herl)ert  did  not  speak  ;  he  took  the  lesson  to  his 
heart  nevertheless.  Ho  was  finding  it  no  easy 
thing  to  yield  the  great  ambition  of  his  life,  tlio 
cherished  hope  of  his  young  manhood,  the  miglity 
impulse  wliich  lie  liad  ever  regarded  as  the  liigli- 
est  call  of  God — to  preach  the  gospel  of  the  King- 
dom in  tlie  lands  afar. 

Many  houra  had  he  spent  on  his  knees  since  the 
night  he  discovered  his  father's  illness.  If  God  had 
called  him  to  the  foreign  field  had  He  now  abrogated 
that  call  ?  Had  He  trifled  with  His  child  ?  "  Led 
him  to  intensest  longing  for  a  good  he  could  not 
grasp?  And  if  He  intended  him  to  remain  in  his 
native  land,  by  his  motlier's  side,  why  had  the 
choice  of  his  young  heart  been  smitten  ?  He  could 
understand  a  love  that  might  smite  him  now  to  sjjaro 
liim  the  gre.vter  torture  of  seeing  one  so  frail  and 
so  loved  enduring  danger,  toil  and  sacrifice.  But 
if  none  of  these  things  were  before  lier  why  need 
she  be  taken  from  his  arms  ?  ■ 

Why  ?     Why  ?     Children  are  not  the  only  users 


ELL,  JR. 

id  is  an  appreciative 
er  if  I  tried,  how 
iiched  in  iry  study 
haps  yoit  can  learn  it 
smenibering.  Here 
ihoose  not  ease  but 
it  tilings  since  then 
n  life,  my  son — but 
len  enabled  to  add, 

ok  the  lesson  to  his 
finding  it  no  easy 
Hon  of  his  life,  tlio 
iinhood,  the  miglity 
garded  as  the  high- 
gospel  of  the  King- 

his  knees  since  tlio 
illness.  If  God  had 
d  He  now  abrogated 
h  His  child  ?  "  Led 

good  he  could  not 
im  to  remain  in  his 
side,  why  had  the 
mitten?  He  could 
ite  him  now  to  sjjaro 
iig  one  so  frail  and 
and  sacrifice.  But 
jfore  her  why  need 

enot  the  only  users 


JfOT  AFRICA  nUT  JESUS. 


199 


of  that  word  ;  iho  human  lieart  forevQr  echoes  it. 
There  came  no  answer  to  liis  questioning.  Only 
one  thing  became  clearer  day  by  day  and  that  was 
the  present  duty.  He  could  see  the  firat  step,  the 
next  he  must  trust  to  God,  with  all  the  stmnge 
cross-leadings,  the  sorrows  and  disappointments  of 
the  past  year. 

On  his  knees  that  Sabbath  night  the  "little 
sermon  "  returned  to  him  with  his  father's  com- 
ments. Did  God  ask  more  than  simple  acquies- 
cence, acceptance  of  the  inevitable?  Did  He  re- 
quire  positive  choice,  active  preference  of  His  will  ? 
"  You  know  we  are  to  choose"     Yes,  lie  knew. 

"  N"t "  ho  left  a  blank  after  the  little  negative 

as  he  added,  "  but  His  will." 

He  changed  the  wording  to  make  it  peraonal, 
positive.  "  I  choose,"  he  said,  the  ring  of  deter- 
mined purpose  in  his  voice  "not  "  what?  Rea? 
Nay,  she  was  beyond  his  choosing — "  Africa." 

All  the  tendrils  of  his  bleeding  heart  wei  e  cling- 
ing to  tlie  sacrifice  as  he  bound  it  to  the  altar. 
The  pride,  the  love,  the  fond  interest  with  which 
he  had  surrounded  the  Dark  Land.  The  awful  re- 
alization of  her  need,  her  woe  ;  the  high  and  holy 
enthusiasm,  the  deathless  longing  to  follow  his 
Master  into  the  hardest  places  of  earth  for  sacrifice 
for  service ;  these  all  enhanced  the  gift  Herbeit 
Gardenell  laid  at  God's  feet  that  Sabl)ath  night 
when,  with  lifted  hand  and  dripping  eyes  and  firm, 
unfaltering  lips  he  said,  "  I  choose  not  Africa  but 
Thy  will."  ' 


200 


nERBERT  OAHDENELL,  JR. 


It  WHS  done.  Tlie  mightiest  act  of  his  life.  As 
fur  transcending  the  consecration  of  his  life  to 
Africa  as  Abraham's  sacrifice  of  Isaac  transcended 
his  banishment  of  Ishmael  from  his  doors.  Yet 
both  of  them  were  acts  of  divine  reality  costing 
all  their  maker  possessed.  To  take  a  barren,  un- 
sightly thing  to  one's  breast  and  love,  and  clothe, 
and  l)eautify,  s^nd  live  for  it,  nnich  as  this  means, 
can  never  be  what  it  is  to  thrust  the  thing  «o 
nourished,  so  loved,  unto  another  and  learn  io  live 
without  it. 

Herbert  crept  into  bed  that  night  as  weak  and 
as  subdued  tis  a  whipped  child.  But  it  was  the 
child  to  whose  heart-breaking  had  come  the  sooth- 
ing of  a  mother's  kiss.  No  longer  Africa  but 
Jesus  1 

"  It  is  not  always  open  ill 

That  risks  the  Promised  Rest  : 
The  Better,  often,  Is  the  foe 
That  keeps  us  from  the  i}e«(." 


■■,44 


-."'  t  "jT^ 


SLIPPED  UNAWARES. 


201 


;  act  of  his  life.  As 
ition  of  liis  life  to 
of  Isaac  transcended 
•om  his  doors.  Yet 
ivine  reality  costing 

0  take  a  barren,  un- 
nd  love,  and  clothe, 
inich  a8  this  means, 
thrust  the  thing  «o 
lier  and  learn  io  live 

b  night  as  weak  and 
Id.  But  it  was  the 
had  come  the  sooth- 

1  longer  Africa  but 

mill 

omised  Rest  : 

B  the  foe 

Dm  the  Beat" 


CHAPTER  XX.- 

SLIPPED   Ui      WARES. 

"  Death  knits  as  well  as  parts." 
V    ■  '  — James  lUmsELL  LowjiUj. 

"Sometimes  the  arrowy  sharpness  of  a  sorrow, 
Piercing  life's  common  calm, 
Smiles  hidden  rocks  of  comfort,  which  to-morrow 

O'erflow  in  healing  balm. 
'Keatli  burdens  that  we  stagger  In  tlie  taking,     "      *     ' 

We  walk  erect  at  length; 
And  bitter  blows,  that  bowed  almost  to  breaking. 
Reveal  our  secret  strength." 

— M.  L.  DicKiNBOir. 

Mr.  Gardenell  had  written  to  Harry,  Eddie 
and  Mr.  Campbell  yesterday,  this  morning  he  ex- 
cused himself  for  a  while  to  write  more  lettera. 

His  wife,  busy  about  the  house,  came  co  look  in 
the  study  occasionally  and  peep  over  his  shoulder, 
kissing  his  smiling  lips.  The  last  time  she  came 
he  was  directing  Stanton's  letter. 

"  Only  one  more,"  he  said.  "  I  must  write  Ray- 
mond a  few  lines.  I  feel  the  pressure  of  the  duty 
on  me.     I  shall  soon  be  at  leisure." 

"Do  not  hurry  for  my  sake,"  was  the  reply. 
**I  will  bring  my  sewing  and  sit  where  I  caQ 


'«  ^M"^ 


JIEUnKIiT  OAnOENSLL,  JU. 


P 


#«* 


r=.'  - 


wateh  you  wliilo  you  aro  at  work.     1  am  Hciash  ;  I 
cannot  Iniar  you  out,  of  my  sight." 

»  Swoetheait,"  ho  answered.  "  My  ht-ait's 
hfiait,  truest  wife  that  ever  breathed." 

She  went  out  for  a  few  n-inutes— oh,  so  few 
they  seemed  1  She  was  dehiyed  a  little  by  hunt- 
ing up  the  silk  which  Olive  1-ad  l)eeu  using  and 
had  left  in  her  chamlHjr.  Tl  en  she  appeared  onco 
more,  a  dress-skirt  in  her  h:;nd. 

lie  was  still  at  the  desk,  but  liis  head  was  Iwwed 
forward  as  if  in  thought  or  weariness.  Quickly, 
lightly,  she  came  to  his  side.  TIkj  pen  had  dropped 
from  his  fingers,  his  chin  had  sunken  to  his  breast, 
his  unseeing  eyes  were  on  the  half-written  page 
■where  the  ink  wius  scarcely  dry. 

She  did  not  call  or  cry.  She  touched  his  hand, 
it  was  cold ;  felt  for  his  heart,  it  wiis  still.  She 
knelt  before  him  and  looked  up  whither  ho  was 
gone,  and  asked  God  to  enable  her  to  live  as  ho 
had  lived,  to  die  as  he  had  died,  and  to  bear  as  ha 
would  bear  if  left  in  her  place.  She  asked  grace 
to  say  from  the  heart  what  her  lips  tremblingly  re- 
peated, "  Thy  will  be  done." 

She  heard  the  door  open  ;  it  was  Herbert.  She 
rose  and  went  to  meet  him  ;  she  put  her  arms  up 
to  his  neck  and  drew  his  Y\\)»  to  hers.  "  The  Lord 
gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away  ; "  she  began, 
as  her  husband  had  that  other  awful  day.  And 
now,  as  then,  the  young  man  finished  the  quota- 
tions, with  his  mother  clasped  to  his  heart: 
"  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.'' 


SNKLLyJn. 

woik.     1  am  Hclftsh  ;  1 

ight." 

vered.      "  My  lifurt'ii 

[ireathed." 

iKinutes — oh,  so  few 
xytn]  11  little  by  huiit- 
e  I'rtd  iMjen  using  and 
1  en  aho  appeared  onco 
,nd. 

jut  liis  head  was  l)owed 
If  weariness.     Quickly, 

Th<j  pen  had  dropped 
wi  sunken  to  his  breast, 
1  the  half-written  page 
dry. 

She  touched  his  hand, 
leart,  it  wiis  still.  She 
ed  up  whither  ho  was 
lable  her  to  live  as  ho 
died,  and  to  hear  as  ha 
)lace.  She  asked  grace 
her  lips  tremblingly  re- 

;  it  was  Herbert.  Slio 
1 ;  she  put  her  arms  ui> 
I)s  to  hers.  "  The  Lord 
iken  away  ;  "  she  began, 
other  awful  day.  And 
man  finished  the  quota- 
clasped  to  Lis  heart : 
,he  Lord.'' 


HLIPPED  UNAW'AUJCS, 


208 


What  need  of  words  ?  Wo  all  know  liow  his 
« lunch  and  city  sorrowed:  how  tho  state  and  even 
nation  ic.'y  bereaved;  liow,  in  mission  boards  and 
mission  fields  and  many  a  distant  land,  they 
niDurned,  not  only  the  good  man  fallen  but  the 
j,^(!norouH  friend,  tho  consecrated  lielper  removed. 
'I'liis  was  no  jjrivate  grief,  too  far  had  his  influ- 
ence spread.  The  mighty  voice  and  pen,  liow 
they  would  bo  missed!  What  could  take  their 
places?  Earth  hivs  so  few  such  men  she  can  illy 
spare  one. 

"  Tall  men  Sun-crowned,  who  live  above  tho  fog, 
In  public  duty  and  in  private  thinking." 

Around  tho  world  tho  news  ti-avelled.  The  tele- 
gram to  Raymond  was  followed  by  tho  letter  never 
ended,  only  begun,  like  the  life  of  him  who 
penned  it. 

"  I  am  living  in  Reulah-land,  I  shall  not  be 
surprised  any  day  to  find  myself  beyond  the  gates 
of  pearl,"  ho  had  written.  "  It  is  such  a  delight 
to  know  the  '  old,  old  story  '  will  not  drop,  un- 
ntlcred,  because  I  can  no  longer  repeat  it ;  doubly 
ii  (leliglit  to  know  my  own  dear  sons  can  so  worth- 
ily herald  tho  coming  and  kingdom  of  my  Lord. 
Uayniond,  ray  son,  I  joy  in  you.  Of  all  tlie  good 
gifts  of  my  God — and  they  are  many,  they  have 
crowded  my  li.e — I  thank  Him  most  for  these  : 
A  wife  who  has  ever  been  an  inspiration,  n  divine; 
assistant  heavenward,  and  children  who  are  a 
crown  of  glory  not  only  to  myself  but  my 
Redeemer. 

"  Meet  mo  some  day — work  done — if   not  bur- 


004 


UKHBKHr  UAItDKNKI.L,  JR. 


t 


dfno.l  withHheiiveH,  at  least  weary  M.i\  fuirowed  by 
tho  toil  that  piopaies  ihein  for  the  « eapniK  «)f  «>t  '«'^j 
The  hibor  may  Vi  hard,  hut  the  ht.iii-s  are  Hioitaiid 
the  Kternal  City  in  ever  in  view.     It  m  only  aHkn> 

hence " 

Nay,  it  woh  only  a  pen-Btroko.  The  next  word 
the  Recording  Angel  wrote  wan  "  Olory,"  an  the 
wbite-rolKjd,  waiting  ones  wafted  him  with.n  tho 
gates  and  he  found  himHclf  at  H(»me. 

»  What  else  could  (Jod  do  for  him  ?  "  wrote  Lee, 
in  a  note  of  »ynn.athy  to  Olive.  "  I  c.uld  not 
sleep  aftar  that  sern.on  Sunday;  it  seemed  that 
even  1  had  been  lifted  into  some  realization  of  the 
unseen  countiy.  I  think  now,  .w  I  tl^oug't;!'""; 
that  be  had  come  so  close  to  heaven  that  Our 
Father  could  do  nothing  less  than  let  bun  in. 

"  If  the  laws  of  growth  ara  eternal,  ivs  it  seems 
to  me  they  mast  l)e,  it  is  possible  God  has  to  take 
some  men  out  of  this  world  to  lot  them  grow. 
They  absorb  so  much,  so  fast,  tlu7  can  no  longer 
leain  under  our  limited  conditions;  the  Etenial 
within  them  demands  Eternity  without.  We 
would  not  willingly  think  of  your  father  as  ham- 
pered in  any  wav,  hindered  in  bis  growth  or  even 
delayed.  We  cannot  conceive  it.  We  could  spare 
bim  better  than  we   could  see  bim  less  than  liu: 

""  bo  you  find  comfort  in  tbe  thought,  Olive? 
I  do.  to  me  be  will  always  l^e  a  present  friend. 
You  know  I  did  not  see  bim  often,  but  I  bad  him. 
I  have  bim  yet."  , 

Some  thing  of  the  same  feeling  came  to  Stanton 
when  in  one  mail  be  received  that  bvst  precious 


:nkil,JR. 

ireiiry  M,^\  furrowed  by 
r  tilt)  n!ii|>iiig  of  (»tlit'ii*. 
Ih«!ht>iii-Hiir«  Hhortaiid 
iew.     It  in  only  ivHtep 

oko.    The  next  word 
w»iH  "  Glory,"  «w  the 
nifted  him  within  the 
it  Home. 

i  for  him  ?  "  wrote  Lee, 
Olive.  "  I  could  not 
nuliiy  ;  it  seemed  that 
some  reftlizalion  of  the 
low,  iw  I  thought  then, 

0  to  heaven  that  Our 
18  than  let  him  in. 

ara  eternal,  as  it  Heems 
jHHible  God  hiw  to  take 
nld  to  lot  them  grow, 
ast,  th»7  can  no  longer 
onditiona;  the  Eternal 
ternity  witlumt.  We 
of  your  father  aa  ham- 

1  in  his  growth  or  even 
live  it.  We  could  spare 
I  Bee  iiim  less  than  hi;^ 

in  the  thought,  Olive'.' 
rrays  l>e  a  presetit  friend, 
m  often,  but  I  had  him. 


feeling  came  to  Stanton 
'ived  that  last  precious 


HLll'I'Kt)  VSAWARKH. 


206 


litter,  and  with  it  one  frotn  llerlwrt  telling  of  hiit 
liither'n  death.  He  returned  the  sacred  vapiHllo 
that  they  all  might  read  it. 

"  Flo  seems  very  near  n)e,"  the  dear  Missionary 
wrote,  "  nearer  than  ever  In-fore.  Heaven  itself  is 
very  near  and  *\\\vvX  in  thin  land  of  death  whero 
to  day's  health  may  rest  in  to-morrow's  tomb.  I 
have  a  peituliar  sense  of  his  presence,  as  if  in  Icsing 
Ills  lM)dy  his  soul  came  closer  to  my  own.  I  «lo 
not  miss,  I  have  him.  And  oh,  the  joy  of  having 
liiid  his  love,  and  fellowship,  and  teat-hing !  Wo 
ought  to  I M)  spiritual  princes  who  shared  the  futhei"- 
liood  of  such  a  king  I  ** 

How  hallowed  lliis  voice  from  the  dead  sent 
hiuik  to  them  over  the  waves  I  How  impossible  to 
lliink  him  gone  as  the  familiar  handwriting  l(M)ked 
up  at  them  from  the  page.  They  could  hoar  the 
very  tones  of  his  voice,  the  tenderness  thatbreatluMl 
through  every  written  word.  Ho  had  Iwcn  laid 
ivway  these  five  months,  but  this  letter  brought  him 
close  at  hand. 

It  was  full  of  interest  in  Stanton  and  his  work, 
little  helpful  suggentions,  a  few  earnest  comminds 
concerning  the  care  of  his  body,  needful  rest,  etc. 
Then  it  went  on. 

"  I  feel  like  a  school-boy  when  vacation  lias 
l)('<jfun.  It  is  not  coming,  it  is  here.  I  have  had  a 
talk  with  mamma  and  Herbert,  made  all  things 
ready,  my  soul  mounts  up  as  naturally  as  if  it  had 
wings.  If  this  is  death  how  wonderfully  swefit  it 
is,  there  is  nothing  in  my  heart  but  deep  content. 
I  have  an  intuition  that  this  may  be  my  last  letter 


mmmmmmmm 


20R  HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 

to  vou.  But  if  it  is  we  shall  not  mind  it,  you  and  I ; 
nothing  can  ever  separate  us.  I  shall  be  near  you 
I  dare  to  think  that  perhaps  on  ray  upward  flight 
Our  Father  will  grant  me  a  short  visit  to  your 
lonely  hut,  a  glance,  if  but  n.omentarj',  of  your 
dear  self  and  your  work.  1  can  never  lose  interest 
iu  either  while  I  am  myself,  and  I  shall  always  be 
that  or  something  better. 

"Who   can   guess   the    surprises    awaiting   us 
vonder  ?     I  get  premonitions  of  a  glory  I  cannot 
express,  heailgi-a^ps  of  Eternity  fluttering  glimpses 
of  the  Savioui^B  face.     My  Earth-heart  is  too  feeble 
to  hear  much  pressure,  God  graciously  withholds 
more  than  a  taste,  but  how  it  sets  me  lo"gi"g  for 
a  feast.     Nay,  hardly  longing.     I  am  too  enrapt- 
ured with  His  will  to  hasten  it  one  heart-heat  or 
to  hinder  it  one  bre..th.     Stanton,  whatever  else 
deatli  does  for  us,  it  does  not  separate  us  from  the 
E-thewill  and  love  of  God.     Caiyt  separate 
us  therefore  from  those  who  know  His  love  and  do 
His  will?" 

Herbert's  voice  broke  here  ;  he  could  not  go  on. 
His  mother  took  the  sheet  from  his  hand  and 
finished  its  reading. 

"Out  of  the  weakness  of  my  failing  body  my 
soul  triumphantly  asserts  its  8t.;ength  and  proves 
that,  not  the  clay  but  what  inhabits  it,  is  Eternal, 
mi,  'yet  not  I '  in  me  is  mightier  than  in  the 
height  of  my  prime.  The  physical  faltering  i*, 
tthe  dropping  of  tlie  husk  that  the  <.-.  nuy 
mature,  api^ear,  come  into  the  fulness  of  the  sun  s 
warm  rays." 

At  the  close  of  the  letter  were  a  few  lines  which 
puzzled  Olive  sorely  at  the  firat  reading. 


ENELL,JR.      '         ' 

not  mind  it,  you  and  I ; 
i.  I  shall  be  near  you. 
)8  on  my  upward  flight 
3  a  short  visit  to  your 
t  momentary,  of  your 
1  can  never  lose  interest 
',  and  I  shall  always  be 

surprises  awaiting  us 
)ns  of  a  glory  I  cannot 
■nity,  fluttering  glimpses 
Earth-heart  is  too  feeble 
)d  graciously  withholds 
f  it  sets  me  longing  for 
ing.  I  am  too  enrapt- 
stLii  it  one  heart-heat  or 
Stanton,  whatever  else 
not  separate  us  from  the 
[  God.  Can  it  separate 
lo  know  His  love  and  do 


3re ;  he  could  not  go  on. 
3et  from   his   hand  and 


1  of  my  failing  body  my 
its  strength  and  proves 
at  inhabits  it,  is  Eternal, 
is  mightier  than  in  tlie 
'he  physical  faltering  is 
husk  that  the  corn  may 
>  the  fulness  of  the  sun's 

er  were  a  few  lines  which 
lie  first  reading.  '^' 


SLIPPED  UNAWARES. 


207 


"  I  had  nearly  forgotten  what,  after  all,  was 
tlie  chief  canse  of  my  writing  at  this  time.  I 
liad  a  long  talk  with  my  Girlie  last  niglit.  Not 
such  a  one  as  I  am  liaving  with  you,  slie  is  hardly 
roady  for  that  yet,  but  one  it  would  not  displeiuse 
you  to  hear.  Do  you  remember  that  we  decided 
one  night  she  mmt  grow  ?  Well,  she  is  growing. 
lou  were  not  mistaken,  the  end  is  sure." 

"  Growing  I  "  What  could  he  mean  ?  Surely 
not  in  stature,  could  he  mean  in  grace  ?  Her 
heart  gave  a  thrill.  Had  her  father,  ripe  as  he  was, 
so  near  the  kingdom,  liscovered  what  she  had 
hardly  yet  dared  to  believe,  that  she  was  really 
growing  Godward.  Slie  must  grow  faster,  she 
must  be  ready  to  meet  this  adored  parent.  Slie 
did  not  forget  that  question  of  his,  "  Can  death 
separate  us  from  those  who  know  His  love  and  do 
His  will  ?  "  Henceforth  this  should  be  her  life's 
one  aim,  to  know  and  love  God  and  His  will. 

There  were  resolutions  of  every  description  sent 
to  this  home,  and  letters  poured  in  upon  every  side ; 
Letters  of  condolence,  sympathy,  love.  Among 
tliosethe  most  prized  were  those  from  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Rogers,  Eddie  Campbell,  Mra.  Cartwright  and 
Raymond.  Poor  Raymond !  for  whose  bleeding 
heart  there  seemed  no  healing.  Over  his  mother 
and  how  she  would  endure  this  blow  he  was  par- 
ticularly troubled. 

"  If  I  could  come  to  you  I  would,"  he  wrote  her, 
"  T  am  praying  for  you  and  aching  for  you,  may 
God  Himself  come  to  your  aid." 


208  HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 

And  Ho  did.    It  was  a  wonder  to  all  how  tlu3 

J  Uoi„  tlioHe  who  needed  her  moat. 

^'^rt;t&en  loved,  adoved  „o.-.    They 
etag.l^W  „p  to  and  hang  on  1-- ---*'' 

dr^d^r:^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

Xd   b"t  did  not  try  to  ding  or  hang    »he 
topped  her  whole  »eU  on  Hi»  heart  and  rested. 


VELL,  JR. 

»nder  to  all  how  this 
of  her  beloved.  So 
,st  glad  Wiu4  she  as  ii 
and  partaken  of  the 
:  awhile  to  strengthen 

er  most. 

thize  with  her,  expect- 

in  grief,  found  them- 
the  comforter.     Hers 
■it  thoughtful  of  every 
ative  of  eveiy  word  of 
ove  and  sympathy  for 
,te    Ray   and   Stanton 
pt,  and  wondered,  and 
ve  and  ti  «  boys  to  her 
venly  magic  extracting 
■  sorrow,  leaving  some 
;th  of  her  own  faith  era- 
sed, adored  her  1     They 
xng  on  her,  even  as  she 
ung  on  to  Christ.     Ah, 
)  said.     She  looked  up, 
to  cling  or  hang,   she 
His  heart  and  rested. 


HIS  FATUEWS  PULPIT. 


209 


-     %-\ 


;      -       CHAPTER  XXI. 
HIS  father's  pulpit. 

"  God's  design  '  " "  '    f;: 

I  see,  and  say  through  hopes  and  fears,  "f* 

'  The  crown  is  here.' " 

"  The  vision  of  alt  my  past  life  '  »:,    ' 

Was  an  awful  thing  to  face; 

Alone  with  my  conscience  sirting  ,  ^  ; 

In  that  solemnly  silent  place.  •                ""s 

*'  And  I  know  of  the  fnture  Judgment, 
How  dreadful  soe'er  it  be, 
That  to  sit  alone  with  my  conscienf.'e 
Will  be  judgment  enough  for  me." 

To  Herbert's  sui-prise,  in  a  few  weeks  he  found 
himself  unanimously  called  to  his  father's  pulpit. 
Flattering  as  some  might  have  thought  this  offer, 
to  the  young  man,  it  brouglit  only  grief  and  pain. 
To  fill  his  father's  place  he  felt  would  be  impossi- 
ble should  he  attempt  it. 

He  would  much  rather  liave  chosen  a  humbler 
flock,  a  more  unobtrusive  position.  The  mission 
where  he  had  delved  so  long,  some  country  church 
far  removed  from  these  scenes  of  former  joys. 
But  the  choice  was  not  with  him.  More  really 
than  ever  before  he  was  not  his  own.  He  must 
14 


210  JIERBERT  OABDENELL,  JR. 

not  count  self.  His  mother,  Olive,  the  boys'- 
Should  he  not  preserve  to  them  the  old  home,  the 
familiar  surroundings,  all  the  possibilities  the 
larger  salary  would  command  ?  His  father's  words 
came  back  to  him  ;  he  felt  their  weight.  For  Im 
mother's  sake  as  little  as  possible  must  be  changed. 
She  must  not  lose  with  her  husband,  her  home, 
her  work,  her  associates. 

His  resolve  was  taken.  The  committee  infonned 
of  his  decision.  The  church  would  change  its 
pastor,  but  not  his  name  ;  it  would  still  be  Rev. 
Herbert  Gardenell. 

The  name,  but  not  the  fact.     Oh,  liow  he  real- 
ized  it !     How  could  the  people  endure  him  Sal)- 
•  bath  after  Sabbath  when  so  used  to  his  father's  ripe 
scholai-ship  and  spirituality?     Self-pity  was  lost  in 
commiseration  of  the  congregation,  and  yet  how 
'  he  shrank    from    occupying    that    sacred    desk. 
There  where  his  father  had  stood  for  so   many 
years,  where,  as  lad  and  man,  he  had  listened  to 
him  with  reverential  awe,  where,  in  lat«r  years,  he 
had  stood  by  his  side  or  supplied  for  him  during 
vacations.     How  could  he  make  it  his  own  place? 
The  garment  was  too  big ;  it  did  not  fit ;  would  he 

ever  grow  to  it  ? 

He  rose  in  the  settling  twilight  and  taking  a  key 
from  the  peg— its  place  for  years,  made  his  way  to 

the  old  church. 

He  went  un  into  the  pulpit  and  knelt  where  his 
father  so  often  had  kneeled,  he  wept  with  his  face 
buried  in  the  cushiona  of  his  father's  chair.     There 


f^ii^-rA'^*^'-''-"''''"-''^'^ 


NELL,  JR. 

r,  Olive,  the  boys'. 
3in  the  old  home,  the 
the  possibilities  the 
?  His  father's  words 
leir  weight.  For  his 
ible  nuist  he  changed. 
•  husband,  her  home, 

le  committee  infoi-med 
ch  would  change  its 
it  would  still  be  Rev. 

,ct.  Oh,  liow  he  real- 
!ople  endure  him  Sal)- 
isedto  his  father's  ripe 
'  Self-pity  was  lost  in 
•egation,  and  yet  how 
g  that  sacred  desk, 
id  stood  for  so  many 
an,  he  had  listened  to 
'here,  in  lat«r  years,  he 
ipplied  for  him  during 
nake  it  his  own  place? 
t  did  not  fit;  would  he 

ilight  and  taking  a  key 
years,  made  his  way  to 

pit  and  knelt  where  his 
i,  he  wept  with  his  face 
is  father's  chair.     There 


HIS  FATHER'S  PULPIT. 


211 


he  solemnly  dedicated  liimself  to  serve  his  father's 
clmroli  and  people,  stretching  outliis  empty  hands 
for  guidance. 

He  was  there  for  hours.  It  was  late  and  quite 
(lark,  when  at  length  he  rose  to  grope  his  way  out. 
lie  laid  one  hand  on  the  jmlpit  and  raised  the 
olher  solemnly  and  his  rich,  deep  voice  fUled  the 
room :  "  He  is  my  father's  God  and  I  will  exalt 
Him,"  he  said,  and  quietly  passed  down  the  aisle 
and  out. 

The  young  minister  had  no  idea  that  any  other 
pei-son  than  himself  was  in  the  church  that  night. 
But  God  had  willed  that  his  fii-st  utterance  from 
the  old  pulpit  should  be  the  conviction  of  a  wan- 
dering soul. 

A  poor,  dissipated  young  man,  strayed  away 
from  home  and  the  prayem  and  tears  of  a  father 
and  mother ;  cold,  sleepy,  half-intoxicated,  fell  up 
ajj'ainst  the  chui'ch-door,  and  seeing  it  was  ajar 
slipped  stealthily  in,  fearful  of  being  seen  and 
ejected. 

He  had  been  wandering  all  day  and  half  the 
night  before  and  dropped  into  a  deep  sleep  as  soon 
as  he  touched  the  first  pew  into  which  he  stumbled. 
He  did  not  know  what  aroused  him,  but  lie 
woke  with  a  start,  and  unconscious  of  his  where- 
ul)outs  began  to  feel  around  him.  The  narrow 
walls  of  his  habitation  suggested  a  horrible  fear : — 
he  was  dead !  he  was  buried  1 

His  distended  eyes  just  then  took  in  a  vision. 
Wivs  it  man  or  angel  ?    Something  tall  and  dark, 


212 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


.H.- 


with  gUvimiiig  eyea  and  a  white  face.  And  then, 
distinctly  through  the  gloom,  like  a  voice  from 
another  world,  came  the  words, — "  He  is  my 
/athe/8  God." 

The  stricken  wretch  heard  no  more.  Palsied 
with  fear  he  wallowed  on  the  floor  scarcely  daring 
to  breathe. 

The  next  morning  the  janitor  found  him  more 
dead  than  alive.  It  was  a  wonder  he  had  not  act- 
ually died  of  fright,  for  he  was  sure  he  had  seen  a 
denizen  from  another  world.  All  that  long  night 
and  for  many  succeeding  ones  those  five  words 
rang  in  his  eara,  "  He  is  my  father's  God." 

It  was  meant  for  him.  Wlio  else?  Had  not 
his  father's  God  searched  him  out  at  last?  Would 
Ho  not  bring  him  into  judgment  ?  Great  convic- 
tion seized  the  man's  soul ;  he  could  not  shake  it 
off.  He  gave  no  account  of  himself  to  the  janitor, 
only  he  said  the  door  was  open  and  he  walked 
in  and  had  seen  a  spirit. 

"  It's  the  spirit  that  generally  resides  in  a  bottle, 
I  guess,"  laughed  the  janitor.  "  Take  my  advice 
and  let  it  alone."  ,■    >  .;    ' 

Let  it  alone  I  he  dared  not  touch  it.  He  felt 
like  one  who  has  faced  the  judgment  and  hardly 
knows  whether  he  lives  or  not.  "My  father's 
God  ! "  The  morning  and  evening  prayera  raised 
tinder  the  humble  home  roof  came  back  to  his 
memory  with  wonderful  power,  moving  him  to 
longings  for  better  things.  If  he  could  but  recall 
the  past,  if  he  might  have  another  chance? 


-Whtf  l^'^-"'^  ■**"*'*' ^^•'    '  '■"'>*«""»" 


NELL,  JR. 


niS  FATUKIVS  PULPIT. 


S18 


lite  face.  And  then, 
n,  like  a  voice  from 
vords, — "  He    is   my 

d  no  more.     Palsied 
floor  Bcarcely  daring 

itor  found  him  more 
mder  he  had  not  act- 
us sure  he  had  seen  a 
All  that  long  night 
ties  those  five  words 
•ather's  God." 
tVlio  else?     Had  not 

out  at  last?  Would 
nent  ?  Great  convic- 
le  could  not  shake  it 
liimself  to  the  janitor, 

open  and  he  walked 

lly  resides  in  a  bottle, 
t.     "  Take  my  advice 

3t  touch  it.  He  felt 
judgment  and  hardly 
not.  "My  father's 
vening  prayei-s  raised 
»of  came  back  to  his 
iwer,  moving  him  to 
If  he  could  but  recall 
other  chance  ? 


A  strange  fascination  drew  him  over  ahd  over 
ajjfiiiii  to  the  spot  where  ho  had  seen  the  vision, 
lit'iinl  the  voice.  And  Sunday  morning — that  Sun- 
day Herbert  so  dreaded — the  longing  to  go  in  and 
see  the  place  overcame  the  youtli's  superstitious 
fears,  and  he  entered. 

He  dropped  into  the  pew  nearest  the  door  as  lie 
had  done  before,  and  looked  about  with  a  half- 
siiuddering  awe.  He  was  not  a  fool  or  madman, 
this  young  man,  but  a  fellow-mortal,  awake  to 
awful  realities,  impaled  before  his  own  conscience, 
which  makes  cowards  of  us  all.  That  conscience 
wliich  he  liad  trampled  underfoot  with  his  father's 
counsels  and  his  mother's  prayers  had  suddenly 
taken  the  throne  and  he  trembled  before  it  as  all 
must  who  dare  its  judgments. 

His  eyes  never  left  the  young  preacher's  face, 
from  the  utterance  of  the  first  sentence  to  the  last. 
For  the  first  sentence  was  that  which  he  had  heard 
so  stmngely  a  few  nights  ago.  Herbert  had  chosen 
for  a  text  the  verse  brought  to  his  mind  that 
evening.  It  was  to  be  his  future  battle-cry,  his 
father's  God  and  His  Excaltation. 

He  did  not  forget  the  sinner's  portion.  He  had 
solemnly  covenanted  with  God  for  souls,  for  men 
and  women  redeemed  from  sin  through  his  min- 
istry ;  for  men  and  women  to  take  his  place  in  the 
foreign  field  if  hemiist  stay  at  home.  He  expected 
them.  Not  knowing  who  sat  in  his  audience 
trembling,  he  cried,  God-moved: 

"  Young  man,  your  father's  God  calls  you  to-day. 


■*iri&H 


814 


IlERBEHT  UAHDdNSLL,  Jit. 


Yoii  have  left  alike  both  Illm  ami  father,  spurned 
offered  love  and  mercy.  But  do  not  tliink  you  are 
given  up ;  nay,  God  is  after  you  to-day.  Your 
fatlier's  prayers  must  be  answered;  the  Spirit  is 
pleading  with  you  anew.  IIo  whispers, '  To-day,  if 
you  will  hear  His  voice,  harden  not  your  heart, 
your  father's  God  waits  to  Iw  merciful." 

lie  ended  with  a  stirring  apjwal  to  the  children 
of  Christian  parents,  dedicate  to  God  from  their 
birth,  specially  dear  to  His  he  ,  robbing  Him  of 
their  youth  and  strength.  For  young  Christians  he 
liad  his  word  also,  the  power  to  exalt  their  father's 
God,  the  wide  opportunities,  the  open  dooi-s,  the 
crying  needs. 

This  sermon  was  no  failure.  And  way  back 
there  in  the  last  pew  sat  a  man  with  his  hands  over 
his  eyes,  his  first  prayer  trembling  on  his  li^w,  his 
first  honest  resolve  for  God  heard  and  noted  in 
heaven. 

Herbert  waited  awhile  in  the  vestry  on  his  knees 
before  he  left  the  church.  He  had  not  proceeded 
far  when  some  one  accosted  him.  ^i     v   ;  ,ifi» 

"  You  are  the  young  minister  ?  " 

In  spite  of  the  marks  of  dissipati  m\  on  his  face, 
there  were  traces  of  refinement  in  voice  and 
manner. 

"  I  am,"  answered  Mr.  Gardenell  heartily.  "  Can 
I  befriend  you  in  any  way  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  if  j^ou  only  will  help  me  to  God  1 " 
Wivs  ever  gospel-toacher  met  with  gladder  request? 
In  another    moment,  arni  linked   in  that  of   the 


it 


ifu*Av>B^)  ^'tHin^^'i^ 


NELL,  JR. 


HIS  FATIIEH'S  PULPIT. 


216 


a  ftiul  father,  spunuMl 
do  not  think  you  iiro 
r  you  to-(liiy»  Your 
iwered ;  tlio  Spirit  is 
whispers,  'To-day,  if 
den  not  your  heart, 
merciful." 

ppeal  to  the  children 
te  '  to  God  from  their 
le.  ,  robbing  llim  of 
ir  young  Christians  he 
to  extilt  their  father's 
,  the  open  dooi-s,  the 

are.     And   way  back 

m  with  his  hands  over 

bling  on  his  liixs,  his 

heard  and  noted  in 

le  vestry  on  his  knees 
e  had  not  proceeded 
m. 

ter?" 

isipati  m  on  his  face, 
ment   in    voice    and 

cuell  heartily.     "  Can 

help  nie  to  God  1 " 

yitli  gladder  request? 

ked   ill  that  of   the 


stranger,  Herbert  was  talking  earnestly  as  they 
hastened  toward  his  home. 

U[)  in  the  old  study,  before  father's  chair—  that 
conseciated  spot  1  Heil)ert  laid  liis  fii'st  sheaf 
t'loni  this  new  calling  at  the  feet  of  his  father's  God. 
Koht'it  Langmoro went  out  from  that  holy  place 
witli  a  light  in  his  eye  and  a  glow  in  his  heart  that 
would  liavo  filled  his  mother's  heart  with  joy  had 
slio  but  known  it.  In  less  than  a  week  she  did  know 
it  and  prayer  was  turned  to  praise  in  one  Oliioiiome. 

Ilis  new  ministry  had  received  its  seal.  Iler- 
lx;rt's  joy  and  gratitude  knew  no  bounds.  This 
convei'sion  was  followed  by  others  and  yet  others; 
a  gracious  revival  began,  and  Iwfoi'o  many  months 
liiul  pjussed  there  were  three  score  fiesh  young 
consecrated  souls  as  fruits  of  his  labor.  And 
brightest,  most  earnest  among  them,  was  tills  fii-st 
jewel  plucked  fiom  the  mire.  Before  the  winter 
elided,  in  the  study  where  ho  had  found  Christ, 
Robert  Langmore  said : 

"  Mr.  Gardeiiell,  I  feel  sure  I  am  to  prepare 
to  preach  the  Gospel  among  the  heathen.  The  call 
is  on  me  day  and  night.  I  have  written  home  about 
it,  and  my  father  is  anxious  I  should  begin  study, 
go  to  school,  prepare.  I  have  a  little  money  saved, 
so  has  he.  I  have  come  for  your  advice  and  blessing." 

And  Herbert  Gardenell's  answer  sounded 
strangely  from  the  mark.  "  The  Loi"d  He  is 
God,"  he  said,  walking  the  study  floor  with  tearful 
upraised  eyes.  "  The  Lord  He  is  God — my  father's 
Hod,  I  will  exalt  Him." 


8I« 


UEUBKRT  QARDENELL,  JR. 


1 


y 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

LEB'8  8BCRKT. 


••  I  shall  know  by  the  gleam  and  glitter 
Of  the  golden  chain  you  wear, 
By  your  heart's  calm  strength  In  loving, 

0(  the  flro  you  have  had  to  bear. 
For  as  gold  must  be  tried  by  fire. 
So  a  heart  must  bo  tried  by  jialn." 

—A.  Pbootob. 

It  may  have  been  well  for  the  young  pastor  that 
he  was  kept  bc  busy,  and  not  only  for  him  but  his 
motl»er  and  sister,  who  became  his  advisers  and 
heluei-s  in  every  good  work. 

Olive  began  again  to  bring  her  sewing  to  his 
study.  Not  the  old  one,  in  the  nursery,  but  his 
father's,  with  its  large  windows  and  bright  furnish- 
ings and  sober  leather  tomes ;  no  suggestion  of 
gloominess  about  it,  though  there  the  good  man  had 
died  as  well  as  labored. 

With  his  father's  pulpit  had  come  to  Herbert 
many  of  his  father's  duties  and  burdens.  He 
wondered  sometimes  how  the  dear  saint  had  borne 
it  all.  Men  were  not  slow  to  discover  that  this  son 
was  a  worthy  successor  to  his  name  ;  and  soon  on 
Mission  Boards-young  as   he  was-and  varied 


NELL,  JR. 


LEffH  SKCRKT. 


217 


>•',■? 


1*,. 


XXII. 

RET. 


sam  and  glitter 
you  wear, 
trongth  In  loving, 
1  had  to  bear, 
•led  by  fire, 
Tied  by  pain." 

—A.  Pbootob. 

r  the  young  pastor  that 
ot  only  for  him  but  his 
scame  his  advisers  and 

>ring  her  sewing  to  his 
in  the  nursery,  but  his 
lows  and  bright  furnish- 
mes;  no  suggestion  of 
I  there  the  good  man  had 

t  had  come  to  Herbert 
ties  and  burdens.  He 
the  dear  saint  had  borne 
•  to  discover  that  this  son 
)  his  name  ;  and  soon  on 
Eis   he  was— and  varied 


charities,  ho  found  his  services  coveted  and 
vahu'd. 

It  wiis  not  long  after  coming  into  his  new  jmsition 
when,  one  morning,  the  mail  brought  him  i.  ^otter 
from  the  superintendent  of  public  schools.  It 
iviiiiniuicod  an  opening  for  Miss  Lcnore  E.  Erdley 
lis  t(!!ichor,  in  accordance  with  the  applioatiou  of 
ills  father  some  time  before.  « 

"Olive,"  he  inquired  turning  to  his  sister,  "do 
you  know  a  Miss  Lenore  E.  Erdloy?" 

"  Certainly  I  do.  Read  the  initials  and  toll  me 
wliat  they  spell?" 

"  Lrc-e,  "  he  said,  "  Lee.  Oh,  then  she  is  the 
friend  I  have  heard  you  mention  so  often.  It 
seems  she  desires  a  position  in  our  public  school ;  it 
is  ready." 

Olive  clapped  her  hands.  "  You  must  let  her 
know  at  once,  Herbert."  , .;    %. i<^  t .  ^^     :■ 

"  Where  can  I  find  her  ?  " 

"  I  really  don't  know.  I  have  always  addressed 
her  where  she  works.  But  she  hasn't  been  at 
Madam's  for  a  week ;  her  mother  is  sick.  She  has 
a  secret,  Herbert,  something  dreadful,  I  am  afraid, 
for  she  never  once  asked  me  to  call  on  her,  and 
wlien  I  suggested  it  one  day  looked  almost 
lionified.  T  have  often  wondered  what  it  could 
be." 

"  Is  that  why  my  sister  is  so  interested  in 
her?" 

"  Slanderer  1  But  I  forgive  you  unless  after  see- 
ing her  you  repeat  the  offence.     Think  bow  papa 


WlliHll.iil....l.l"f 


m 


11RUHKHT  OAUbKNKLL,  J1. 


it. 

Sili 


lovod  her!     And  how  her  oytJH  would  Hgh.  when 
ht)  ciiUod  licr  (liiUK'hloi-.    Slio  ii<lor«(l  liim." 

So  HerU'it  Hi'mchod  lunoiif,'  his  fiithei'd  lieloii^,'- 
iiigH,  and  hit«)  lliat  ftflciiioon,  in  a  little  book  of 
addro»H«H,  found  tlie  one  ho  Bought. 

»  I  wish  I  could  j?o  with  you,"  Mi>;d  Olive  kiss- 
ing him  K'<»od-l)yo,  '•  hut  I  would  not  for  Uie  worl.l 
know  what  sho  doos  not  wisii  to  Usll  nio." 

Ho  found  th'j  i>laco  roftdily.  It  was  iu  a  son  "f 
alley,  back  of  tho  street,  and  behind  sovoi-al  largo 
tenement  houH«H  of  the  bett«r  sort,  if  anything  can 
1)0  said  to  bo  hotter  where  all  is  so  ill.  It  was  a 
respectable  though  very  humble  neighborhood. 
A  woman  from  one  of  tho  outer  houses  pointed 
him  the  door,  adding  the  information  that  sho 
occupied   tho   left  hand  side  of  tho   down  stairs 

flat. 

He  pushed  open  the  front  door  which  stood  ajar 
and  halted.  A  sweet,  clear  voice  reached  his  eara. 
Some  one  with  remarkably  fine  accent  and  inflec- 
tion was  reading  a  German  tale.  He  was  rather 
surprised  as  he  knocked  gently.     -   :';      •  ?.'";>/  ' 

There  was  a  pause  in  tho  reading,  the  plight 
rustle  of  a  dress,  the  opening  of  a  door,  n.d  the 
young  minister  stood  face  to  fiice  with  the  loveliest 
woman  he  had  ever  met. 

"  I  b»  .i  jonv  pardon,  for  disturbing  you.  I  wish 
to  see  Miss  Erdley." 

"  That  is  my  name,"  sho  took  the  precaution  to 
step  into  the  hall  and  close  the  door. 

"  I  am  Herbert  Gardenell."      *;4     i  p':    ^^!f 


KSELL,  Jl. 

yti.s  would  lighL  when 
1)  mlortid  liiin." 

w^  hia  fiitlier'rt  l»eloii^,'- 
oii,   in  a  little  book  of 

HOU^llt. 

yon,"  .s:';il  Olivo  kins- 
vu\\h\  M'tt,  for  tlie  world 
(It  to  Usll  ujo." 

ly.     It  wtiH  in  a  son  "f 

1(1  Ixjliiiul  Hcvoml  Iftigi! 
tor  Hort,  if  anything  ciiii 
,11  is  HO  ill.      It  was  ii 

huinl)lo  neighborhood. 
B  ontor  liouses  pointed 
0  informiition  thiit  v\w 
lido  of  tho   down  i»tttii-3 

it  door  whioh  stood  ajar 
r  voiee  reiiched  his  esii-s. 
r  fine  accent  and  inflee- 
m  tale.  IIo  was  rather 
jntly.  ;  '  ■  • 
the  reading,  the  flight 
niiig  of  a  door,  n-d  tho 
to  face  with  the  loveliest 

--  ,  .  .t  "    -  .-'' *^"    '■ ' 

■  r-t-*-'        -  -  «    J-  . .  -'   :    •■.    :-■  t  •  t    . 

disturbing  you.     I  wish 

9  took  the  precaution  to 

e  the  door. 

,11."    ■,.:-:::     :,-■■■[  '^^:l^■ 


LKie'li  SECRMT. 


210 


Small  noed  to  tell  hor  that.  "I  ghould  know 
yoii  i)y  your  father,"  she  answered,  with  a  Huiilo 
tliiit  Heemod  to  enveloj)o  tho  listener  in  pnre  Hnn- 
hIiIiio.  Slie  did  not  add  as  she  might  have  done, 
"  I  ht<iird  you  preach  lust  Sunday." 

"  My  fatlier   was   interested   in   getting  you  a 

.scliool." 

Her  eyes  lighted.  Ho  had  never  «eon  ,«y,.s  like 
litM-s  that  made  ho  unnoeesHiiry  tho  opening  of  lier 
iil)S.  Ho  saw  asudden  shadow  sweep  their  clear 
depths  before  he  realized  that  a  voice  from  within 
tho  room  was  speaking. 

"Bring  the  geatleman  in,  Lenore,  bring  tho 
tlio  gentlemen  in."  It  was  a  peremptory  voice  used 
to  commanding,  and  being  olwyed.  The  maiden 
lo.)ked  in  his  face  with  Bomothing  like  positive 
pain  upon  her  own. 

"  Your  business  can  bo  qjiickly  dispatched,  Mr. 
Gardenell?"  she  said. 

"  Immediately,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  Hut  the 
voice  within  broke  forth  anew. 

"  Lenore  Eniomon,  I  wish  to  see  the  gentleman 
niy.self,  I  will  see  him." 

There  was  repressed  agony  under  tho  maiden's 
quiet,  courteous  "  Miiy  I  introduce  you  to  my 
mother,  Mr.  Gardenell  ?  "  He  bowed  and  followed 
her. 

Tho  dainty  spotlesshess  of  the  modest  apartment 
into  which  he  stei  ued  struck  him  first.  Its  simple 
comfortableness  and  air  of  superiority.  A  few  easy 
cliaira,  a  book-case  well  stocked,  a  piano,  a  couch 


iWli 


220 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


on  which  reclined  the  remnant  of  what  had  once 
been  >v  very  handsome  woman. 

He  stooped  courteously  over  the  hand  extended 
to  him,  thanked  her  for  his  welcome  though  its  ex- 
travagance had  marred  it.  But  Lee's  secret  was  no 
longer  hers  only.  Acquaintance  with  the  low 
haunts  of  New  York,  its  Chinese  quarters,  opium- 
dens,  made  it  unnecessary  that  one  should  tell  this 
gentleman  that  the  woman  before  him  was  a  victim 
of  the  debasing  morphine  habit,  that  she  was  just 
now  under  the  influence  of  the  exhilaration  that 
accompanies  a  debauch.  And  the  young  lady 
beside  him  knew  all  this,  though  nothing  in  his 
manner  intimated  the  truth. 

He  took  the  chair  she  offered  him  and  proceeded 
to  business.  It  consumed  very  f e  w  moments,  many 
less  than  Mrs.  Erdley's  lamentations  over  the  loss 
of  their  former  social  standing,  the  mortification  of 
their  present  environments,  her  assurance  that  day 
was  about  to  break  upon  their  fortunes,  rendering 
it  unnecessary  for  her  daughter  even  to  con  ider 
his  proposition.  She  thanked  him  volubly  for  his 
kindness,  but  Lenore  must  not  entertain  a  thought 
of  teaching,  she  was  speedily  to  be  restored  to  her 
past  position,  etc.,  etc. 

Herbert  quite  understood  all  this,  and  valued  her 
remarks  for  what  they  were  worth,  the  vagaries  of 
a  diseased  brain.  He  bowed  himself  out  while  her 
last  words  were  still  in  his  eare.  "  You  can  realize 
the  isolation  from  whicli  we  have  suffered,  Mr. 
Gardenell,  when  I  assure  you  that  yju  are  the  first 


'«iifc 


^sataMaK—rBWWt.teaai'li^lWMaitl 


wntMvtnmwn 


ihi'.^M^L'liUtij.indijiM^iif'^fiii^^f^l"^fV^'^^'' 


ENELL,  JR. 


LEE'S  SECRET. 


221 


lant  of  what  had  once 
ivn. 

)ver  the  hand  extended 
\velcome  though  ita  ex- 
But  Lee's  secret  was  no 
lintance  with  the  low 
hinese  quarters,  opium- 
hat  one  should  tell  this 
before  him  was  a  victim 
labit,  that  she  was  just 
f  the  exhilaration  that 
And  the  young  lady 
though  nothing  in  his 
1. 

ered  him  and  proceeded 
rery  few  moments,  many 
lentations  over  the  loss 
ing,  the  mortification  of 
,  her  assurance  that  day 
leir  fortunes,  rendering 
ghter  even  to  con  ider 
ked  him  volubly  for  his 
not  entertain  a  thought 
ly  to  be  restored  to  her 

i  all  this,  and  valued  her 
e  worth,  the  vagaries  of 
id  himself  out  while  her 
eai-s.  "  You  can  realize 
we  have  suffered,  Mr. 
'ou  that  you  are  the  first 


gentleman  who  has  ever  crossed  this  threshold 
since  we  lived  here.  I  trust  when  we  are  again  in 
a  homo  of  our  own  we  shall  see  you  often." 

Lenore  drew  the  door  close  as  she  followed  his 
retreating  form  and  looked  wistfully  into  his  face. 
She  wanted  to  ask  him  to  keep  her  secret,  spare  her 
mother's  shame,  but  her  lips  refused  to  open. 

They  hsvd  no  need.  He  read  in  her  face  her 
pain,  her  sorrow,  her  desire  to  shield  this  wreck  of 
womanhood,  still  known  by  so  holy  a  title.  All 
tlie  chivalry  of  his  nature  went  out  to  meet  her. 
He  held  out  his  hand  and  spoke  very  tenderly  as 
she  placed  hers  in  it. 

"  I  am  your  friend,  you  can  trust  me^  Your 
mother  shall  be  held  as  sacredly,  even  in  my 
thoughts,  as  my  own." 

The  brave  little  head  drooped  a  moment,  there 
was  a  tear  on  his  hand  as  he  went  out.  "  You  are 
your  father's  son,"  she  said,  and  no  praise  could 
have  been  to  him  sweeter. 

"  A  perfect  gentleman,  Lenore.  And  the  first 
who  has  ever  darkened  our  doors,  think  oi  ^hat ! " 

Her  daughter  needed  no  exhortation  .o  such 
thought.  The  spot  ,vhere  ha  had  stood,  the  seat 
where  he  had  sat,  seemed  sacred  ;  the  place  of  her 
torture  had  been  hallowed  by  the  presence  of  a 
friend. 

Herbert  said  little  to  Olive  about  his  visit.  He 
had  seen  Lenore,  he  felt  quite  sure  she  would 
a'^cept  the  situation.  Yes,  she  was  a  very  beautiful 
woman.     Unsattofactorv  as  this  was,  his  sister  was 


mfmm 


ft2& 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


B 


forced  to  be  content,  until  a  card  arrived  stating 
her  friend's  decision,  and  she  danced  otf  to  dress 
liei-self  for  a  walk  to  the  schoolroom. 

S)ie  was  so  full  of  Lee  for  days  that  the  home 
circle  got  little  else,  and  Herbert  smiled  and 
mamma  sympathized.  This  brother  was  interested 
in  spite  of  his  coolness,  but  he  did  not  get  another 
glimpse  of  the  lady  for  months.  Once  he  thought 
he  saw  her  in  church.  Looking  towards  the  same 
pew  the  next  Sabbath  a  kind,  elderly  face  met  his 
eyes.  Once  he  heard  her  voice  in  his  mother's  room, 
as  he  passed  the  half-open  door,  and  saw  the  hem 
of  her  dress.  Again  he  had  a  vision  of  her  and 
his  sister  disappearing  round  a  corner  one  day  as 
he  stepped  from  a  street-car. 

'*  I  have  tried  and  tried  to  have  her  come  and 
dine  with  us  some  day,"  cried  Olive  in  despair. 
"  But  she  never  can  because  of  that  selfish  old 
sick  mother  of  hers." 

"  And  what  about  this  selfish  sister  of  mine  who 
is  not  sick?"  inquired  her  brother,  hardly  glancing 
up  from  his  paper.  "  Does  Miss  Erdley  com- 
plain?" .         .,v„A-^ 

"  No,  you  old  Blessed  I  of  course  she  doesn't, 
tliat's  all  left  to  me.  But  truly  I  am  trying  to 
be  good.  No,  not  to  be  good,  but  to  be  ffis,  that 
is  the  way  Stfinton  puts  it.  God's  children  never 
complain.     I  must  stop  it." 

The  life  in  the  parsonage  was  very  quiet,  dis- 
turbed only  occasionally  by  news  from  afar.  Every 
body  was  glad,  therefore,  and  Olive  in  particular, 


-'  r<-)iMi»fe'*rff«i»tw^^^*y3t*' 


ENELL,  JR. 

a  card  arrived  stating 
le  danced  otf  to  dreaa 
oolroora. 

ir  days  that  the  home 
Herbert  smiled  ami 
brother  was  intereste<l 
he  did  not  get  another 
ths.  Once  he  thought 
sing  towards  the  same 
d,  elderly  face  met  his 
;e  in  his  mother's  room, 
ioor,  and  saw  the  hem 
d  a  vision  of  her  and 
id  a  corner  one  day  as 

o  have  her  come  and 
jried  Olive  in  despair, 
ise  of  that  selfish  old 

Ifish  sister  of  mine  who 
►rother,  hardly  glancing 
oes  Miss   Erdley  com- 

of  course  she  doesn't, 
truly  I  am  trying  to 

od,  hut  to  be  His,  that 
God's  children  never 

'e  was  very  quiet,  dis- 
news  from  afar.  Every 
ind  Olive  in  particular, 


,:..n.  "Y^-      LEET 8  SECRET.  ^SS 

when  Eddie  Campbell  wrote  that  he  and  Achor 
and  their  "  two  hopefuls  "  were  about  to  make  them 
a  flying  visit. 

"  Only  for  a  few  days,  mamma,"  he  wrote,  for  he 
had  never  gotten  over  the  habit  of  his  childhood 
in  culling  Mrs.  Gardenell  mother,  "  but  you  know 
a  little  is  better  than  none,  when  it  is  so  good  a 
thing  as  the  sight  of  my  face;  if  you  will  please 
read  this  backward  imagining  you  are  wriLiuif  ii 
to  me." 

Tliey  had  come.  And  this  morning,  Herbert, 
determined  to  get  all  of  the  viijit  he  could,  had 
brought  his  mail  to  the  sitting-room  to  open,  that  he 
might  get  snatches  of  the  convereation  and  "  look 
at  his  big  cousin-brother  all  he  pleased." 

It  was  rare-looking.  Not  often  such  a  handsome 
face,  merry  heart  and  consecrated  soul  are  united. 
Olive  and  he  were  especial  friends  and  this  morni 
ing  she  was  sharing  with  him  her  treasures. 

Achor  had  gone  to  Dr.  Germaine's  to  see  Esther 
and  had  taken  her  youngest  child  with  her,  leav- 
ing  little  Esther  seated  at  Mr.  Gardenell's  feet, 
helping  him  sort  the  mail.  ChUdi-eu  were  par- 
ticularly  fond  of  Herbert.  >^ 

"I  think  you  promised  to  let  me  read  your 
father's  last  letter  to  Stanton,  Olive?"  said  Mr. 
Campbell. 

"  Yes,  I  did.  Stanton  let  me  keep  it  on  purpose. 
I  knew  you  could  not  afford  to  miss  it,  or  the  one 
Stanton  wrote  after  receiving  it." 

"  Wonderful,  wonderful !  "  said  the  gentleman 


t^umtmmmtll 


V 


224  HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 

a  while  after.  "  W  lat  a  spiritual  giant  Stanton 
Cartwright  is!  and  aow  proud  of  him  and  fond  of 
him  your  father  w.ts." 

"Everyl)ody  is,"  replied  Olive  proudly. 
"  There's  mamma,  I  believe  she  loves  him  as  wull 
as  she  does  Herbert." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  mamma,  smilingly.  "  1  am 
Bure  my  sou  has  never  a  pang  of  jealousy,"  looking 
with  utmost  confidence  into  her  firstrborn's  face. 

"  He  would  hate  himself  if  he  had,"  replied  Her- 
bert, answering  her  glance  with  one  of  unmingled 
love      "One  likes  to  have  such  a  good  article  as 
Stanton  appreciated.    Yet  I  doubt  if  anybody  can 
have  due  appreciation  of  such  unselfish  sacrifice  as 
he  lives  daily.     Not  a  man  on  our  Board  who  esti- 
mates half  what  he  has  done  and  borne  so  far,  or 
his  value  to  the  mission.     Why,  I  don't  know  a 
tithe,  and  he  writes  to  me  more  freely  than  to  any 
other  mortal,  and  I   have  the  faculty  of   reading 
between  his  lines,  too.     I  am  used  to  his  way  of 
solving  problems.     He  ivorks  them  out." 

"I've  an  idea  I  know  anot:    r  something  like 
him,"  said  Mr.  Campbell  quietly. 

»  Me  ?  "  looking  up  scornfully.  "  Why,  Ed,  you 
haven't  a  notion  of  how  absolutely  Stanton  can  ig- 
nore himself.  Sacrifice, self-denial!  he  likes  them. 
And  there's  so  much  of  him  to  be  yielded  up  and 
used.  There  isn't  a  man  in  ten  thousand  with  so 
much  to  offer  to  God,  or  who  so  royally,  so  unreserv- 
edly abandons  himself  to  His  will  and  purposes. 
He  never  has  to  draw  a  breath  over  any  demand 


•MiiMWWili 


■iiiiiiiiiMMtiiiiiri  iiiitflii Wiiiii i  i 'riiliil 


-r* 


ilM*l 


■ni<^"M 


NELL,  JR. 

iritual  giant  Stanton 
id  of  him  and  fond  of 

id      Olive     proudly, 
she  loves  him  as  well 

na,  smilingly.     "  I  am 
T  of  jealousy,"  looking 
lier  first-born's  face, 
f  he  had,"  replied  Her- 
vith  one  of  unmingled 
such  a  good  article  as 
:  doubt  if  anybody  fan 
ill  unselfish  sacrifice  as 
on  our  Board  who  esti- 
e  and  borne  so  far,  or 
Why,  I  <loi»"t  know  a 
noro  freely  than  to  any 
the  faculty  of   reading 
wn  used  to  his  way  of 
b  them  out." 
mot'    r  something  like 
uietly. 

if  ully.  "  Why,  Ed,  you 
solutely  Stanton  can  ig- 
f-denial !  he  likes  them. 
in  to  be  yielded  up  and 
,n  ten  thousand  with  so 
3  so  royally,  so  unreserv- 
Hi8  will  and  purposes, 
oreath  over  any  demand 


LEXrs  SECRET. 


225 


or  command  after  knowing  He  makes  it.  You 
worded  it  just  right,  Ed— 'a  Spiritual  Giant.'  I 
wish  I  was  worthy  to  be  compared  with  him." 

Olive's  cheeks  burned,  and  her  eyes  glowed  as 
slie  listened,  and  Mr.  Campbell  stooped  and  kissed 
her. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  you  all  love  him,"  he  said. 
"  I  owe  him  one  debt  of  gratitude  I  can  never  re- 
pay," drawing  Mrs.  Gardenell  fondly  toward  him. 

"  Everybody  loves  him  because  he  loves  every- 
body," said  Olive.  "  There's  Lee,  he  was  the  first 
to  appreciate  her  and  draw  her  out.  I  must  sliow 
you  her  letter,  Eddie,  it  is  so  much  like  Stanton's. 
They  are  a  lot  alike—inside.  Perhaps,"  naively, 
"  that  is  why  I  love  her  so  much." 

She  put  a  dainty  missive  in  his  hand.  "  What 
beautiful  chirography ! "  he  exclaimed.  "Yes," 
after  a  pause,  "  she  has  tlie  same  thought,  Olive, 
you  should  send  this  to  Stanton." 

Herbert  looked  up  from  the  sheet  he  was  pe- 
rusing. "Have  I  ever  seen  that.  Princess?"  he 
asked.  ^     •; 

"  No,  I  Ijave  only  shared  it  with  mamma.  You 
do  not  care  anything  about  Lee.  I  cannot  interest 
you  in  her." 

He  put  out  his  hand.  "  I  will  read  lier  letter, 
nevertheless,"  he  said  smiling. 

He  made  no  covnment  when  he  passed  it  back ; 
the  last  sentence  had  tied  his  tongue;  he  could  hear 
the  sweet  voice  saj'ing  again ,"  You  are  your  father's 


son. 


«S 


iiWiiiMli 


226 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


"  She  is  juat  as  beautiful  as  her  letter,"  he  heard 
Olive  sayiuEf.  "Stanton  called  her  n  'living 
poem.'  You  ought  to  see  her  wash  dishes  !  It  is 
liigh  art  juj  she  does  it.  You  needn't  smile,  Eddie, 
nuunma  and  I  know ,  we  have  seen  her  do  it.  Her- 
bert has  only  seen  her  once,  and  he  has  been  so 
quiet  about  it,  I  know  she  did  not  impress  him." 

"  Or  impressed  him  too  much  for  words,"  sug- 
gested Mr.  Campbell. 

Herbert  smiled,  "  Olive,"  he  said,  "  my  first  im- 
pression of  Miss  Erdley — outside  of  her  personal 
beauty — was  her  exceeding  frailt}'.  My  second, 
her  exceeding  strength." 

"  You  indulge  in  paradox,"  exclaimed  Eddie. 

"Apparently;  yes,"  assented  Mr.  Gardenell, 
"  perhaps  not  really  so.  It  may  be  Miss  Erdley  is 
physically  as  delicately  strong  as  she  undoubtedly 
is  mentally  and  spiritually." 

Mi"s.  Gardenell  smiled  at  the  look  on  her  daugh- 
ter's face,  such  a  mixture  was  it  of  pleasure  and 
perplexity.  To  Olive  lier  brother  spoke  with  the 
same  degree  of  interest  and  accuracy  as  he  would 
if  analyzing  a  flower. 

Mr.  Campbell  came  to  the  rescue.  "  Can  you 
not  manage  to  give  me  a  glimpse  of  your  friend, 
Olive?"  he  inquired.  '•  I  don't  know  when  I 
have  been  so  interested  in  the  description  of  a 
stmnger." 

"  Will  you  go  with  me  to  meet  her  after  school  ?  " 
cried  Olive. 

"  Gladly.     I  wonder  does  she  love  children  and 


■^^SliMwMw 


iMM 


MWnmtAMBa  BjitaeKitaN^ 


VELL,  JR. 

her  letter,"  he  heard 
illed  her  a  'living 
r  wash  disiies  I  It  is 
needn't  smile,  Eddie, 
seen  her  do  it.  Her- 
,  and  he  has  been  so 
I  not  impress  him." 
uch  for  words,"  sug- 

e  said,  "  my  first  im- 
iide  of  her  personal 
frailt}'.     My  second, 

exclaimed  Eddie, 
ited   Mr.  Gardenell, 
lay  be  Miss  Erdley  is 
y  as  she  undoubtedly 


LESrs  SECRET. 


227 


le  look  on  her  daugh- 
is  it  of  pleasure  and 
i"other  spoke  with  the 
accuracy  as  he  would 

I  rescue.     "Can  you 

mpse  of  your  friend, 

Jon't  know   when    I 

the  description  of  a 

eet  her  after  school  ?  " 

jho  love  children  and 


would  she  like  a  ride  ?    I  might  take  the  carryall 
and  Achor  and  my  babies." 

"Eddie  Campl,ell,  you  are  simply  delightful,  too 
good  for  anything.     But  before  you  see  her  face  I 
want  to  tell  you  one  more  thing  about  lier.     She 
wante  to  be  a  missionary.     She  never  said  so  quite, 
you  know  she  couldn't.     She  would  not  Nvant  what 
Gods  seemed  not  to  will.     But-well,  I  will  tell 
you  what  she  said  once  when  talking  witli  Stanton 
and  me  about  it.     I  think  I   can  give  her   very 
words,  for  I  could  not  forget  them,  thougli  I  did 
not  undei-stand  them  then  as  I  do  now.     I  wish  you 
could  hear  her  say  it  herself.     It  will  not  mean  as 
much  as  I  repeat  it. 

"  '  I  have  thought  sometimes,'  she  said,  and  her 
eyes  said  more  then  her  lips, '  that  I  would 
wdhngly  give  half  of  the  years  of  my  life  for  the 
privdege  of  telling,  during  the  otlier  half,  to  those 
who  never  knew  it,  the  power  of  Christ  to  save. 
I  thmk  I  would  be  willing  to  die  on  the  shore  of 
some  far-away  land,  if  only  by  dying  I  might  show 
those  lost  ones  liow  death  is  swallowed  up  in  Life 
—Life  Eternal."  ^ 

Olive's  voice  faltered  and  almost  broke,  and  Her- 
hort  lifted  little  Esther  suddenly  to  his  knee  and 
111(1  his  face  in  her  curls. 

"  If  you  could  Iiav«  heard  her  say  it,  Eddie- 
Death  iB  swallowed  up  in  Life-aa  if  it  already  was 
a  .sublime  reality.  And  Stanton  told  me  she  had 
spoken  the  language  of  his  own  heart,"  sobbed  the 
gill.  "  I  thought  of  her  words  when  papa  died  and— 


',mimmsfmmimi«iimmi,iitiima^ri^<s^MimmMe. ;.,.  .'ns^tmi^mnimmmmimmiim 


228 


UEUBEUT  GARDEJfELL,  JR. 


and  it  comforted  me.  For  if  death  is  swallowed  up 
in  life  for  her,  it  can  bo  for  me,  aa  we  know  it  cer- 
tainly is  for  papa."  .  r*l    ^ 

Inhere  were  teai-s  in  Esther's  golden  curls  and  a 
manly  heart  thrilled  with  unuttered  sympathy. 
Could  he  have  better  described  the  mighty  yearn- 
ings of  his  own  soul  for  this  coveted  work  ?  He 
was  not  alone,  then,  in  his  experience.  Might  there 
not  be  many  others  beside  this  fair,  frail  girl  who 
had  felt  all  the  strange  questionings,  the  seemingly 
cross-purposes  of  a  soul  set  on  a  forbidden  mission? 
Perhaps  she  had  struggled,  had  suffered  as  he  had 
before  she  accepted  with  such  gentle  grace,  the 
inevitable. 

Up  before  his  mind's  eye  rose  the  pictui-e  of  that 
unpretentious  room,  that  couch  and  its  faded, 
debauched,  silly  occupant.  Had  ho  even  thought 
a  murmur  over  his  lot  ?  Then  might  God  forgive 
him.  He  contrasted  his  mother,  his  home,  his 
sister  and  brothei-s,  his  glorious  work  and  plenti- 
ful opportunities  with  the  limited  possibilities,  the 
comparative  hopelessness  of  the  task  set  that 
strong  yet  gentle  spirit,  and  humbly  asked  God  to 
make  him  worthy  to  stand  with  such  as  her  beside 
His  throne  at  last.  That  moment  Lenore  Erdley 
was  canonized  ;  Herbert  Gardenell  accorded  her  a 
place  in  his  heart  and  prayers.  And  Olive  knew 
it  not. 


#;;:"'■■ 


-[fiiWiHii 


■^ni 


wmmmmm 


ELL,  JR. 

ftth  i8  awallowed  up 
,  an  we  know  it  cer- 

goltlen  cuils  and  a 
mttered  synipatliy. 
[  the  mighty  yearn- 
joveted  work  ?  He 
•ience.  Might  there 
fair,  frail  girl  who 
lings,  the  seemingly 
I  forbidden  mission? 
1  suffered  as  he  had 
li  gentle  grace,  the 

10  the  pictui-e  of  that 
ach  and  its  faded, 
ad  ho  even  thought 
I  might  God  forgive 
ther,  his  home,  his 
us  work  and  plenti- 
ted  possibilities,  the 
the  task  set  that 
unibly  asked  God  to 
,h  such  as  her  beside 
nent  Lenore  Erdley 
enell  accorded  her  a 
3.    And  Olive  knew 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 


229 


CHAPTER   XXin. 

AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING. 

"It  chanced  Etenial  God  that  chance  did  guide." 

Spbncer. 
"  To  see  the  hand  of  God  in  the  present,  and  to  trust  the 
future  iu  tlie  hand  of  God  is  tlio  secret  of  peace." 

T.  L.  CUYLEB. 

The  second  summer  after  Stanton's  departure 
found  Mrs.  Gardenell's  family  pretty  well  scattered. 

Olive  had  gone  to  Maine  to.  visit  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright  and  perfect  the  acquaintance  begun  on 
paper.  Harry  waa  spending  his  vacation  in  the 
West  with  Uncle  George  Rogers,  Eddie  with  a 
friend  in  Massachusetts.  Herbert  alone  remained 
with  mamma  at  their  summer  home. 

It  was  very  quiet,  almost  lonesome,  at  Bloom- 
ingle  without  the  merry-making  of  the  boys  and 
Olive's  girlish  chatter.  Yensie  and  her  first-born 
Clime  closer  together  if  possible  in  those  long 
beautiful  days.  They  had  time  to  tiilk  over  many 
tilings  Jiecessarily  put  aside  in  the  rush  of  life  :  to 
compare  notes  and  look  at  each  other,  as  the  son 
declared,  as  they  sat  on  the  broad  verandah,  he 
reading,  she  sewing  ;  or  she  reading  and  he  lying 


iMW^IIIWhll 


280 


IMIil 


MPNPiPliP 


llEUUKRT  OAHDKNKLL^  JH, 


idly  in  tho  liiitnmock  taking  the  rest  natare 
duMiiuidy  and  iimiHts  on  linving,  80oncr  or  Liter. 

However,  Ilorlnji't  had  a  call  to  town  to-diiy 
which  would  probably  keep  him  over  night. 
Mury-Ann  and  her  boys  came  out  early  in  tho 
morning  to  his  delight.  lie  disliked  leaving  his 
mother  alone  with  tho  servants.  He  would  be 
back  as  early  as  possibio  to-morrow,  he  said,  kissing 
her  fondly  and  charging  Ted — Marj'-Ann's  oldest — 
to  remain  with  her  until  his  return. 

A  sick  parishioner,  one  who  for  many  yeais  had 
listened  to  his  father's  preaching  and  latterly  to 
his  own,  was  nigh  to  death.  Hi,s  Christian  wife 
was  greatly  exercised  over  his  condition,  and  Her- 
bert s[)ent  most  of  the  day  in  the  home  and  at  the 
bedside  of  the  dying  man.  There  seemed  actual 
incapacity  for  spiritual  truth  ever  in  its  simplest 
form.  He  had  neglected,  until  it  was  gone,  his 
power  to  perceive  God,  and  the  young  pastor's 
heart  was  heavily  burdened  over  his  loss. 

At  eight  o'clock  tliat  evening,  weary,  jaded  and 
feeling  ho  had  done  all  in  his  power,  Herl)ert 
turned  from  tho  mansion  towards  the  parsonage  to 
spend  the  night  in  the  old  home. 

Preoccupied,  saddened,  he  walked  along,  hardly 
heeding  whither,  until  the  sound  of  sacred  song 
fell  on  his  ear.  It  came  from  a  mission  near,  and 
they  were  singing  Lyto's  tender,  familiar  hymn, 
"Abide  with  me."  Ho  stopped  to  listen,  tho 
words  fitted  into  his  mood,  he  found  himself  repeat- 
ing them  under  his  breath  with  impassioned  fervor. 


riMiilir 


iE^aBseis<«5ssi(*tesftiS«eB!f 


mmm 


fJilL^  JH, 

ig  the  rest  nature 
f,  sooner  or  Liter, 
sail  to  town  to-diiy 
)  him  over  night, 
no  out  early  in  the 
disliked  leaving  his 
M\tn.  He  woidd  he 
TOW,  lie  said,  kissing 
Mar3--Ann's  oldest — 
iturn. 

I  for  many  yeais  had 
ling  and  latterly  to 

Ili.s  Christian   wife 

condition,  and  Her- 
the  home  and  at  the 
riiere  seemed  actual 

ever  in  its  simplest 
til  it  was  gone,  liis 

the  young  pastor's 
'er  his  loss, 
ig,  weary,  jaded  and 

liis  power,  Herl)ert 
rds  the  parsonage  to 
lie. 

valked  along,  hardly 
)und  of  sacred  song 

a  mission  near,  and 
der,  familiar  hymn, 
pped  to  listen,  tlio 
'ound  himself  repeat- 
1  impassioned  fervor. 


AN  UNKXPECTKh  MEETINO.  281 

"  Not  a  bripf  glance,  I  bog,  a  piwHlng  word  ;  -.>, 

lint  a.i  Thou  .IwPllVr  with  Thy  dUclpl.,.,,  Lord. 
Famlllur,  coiuli-gfeiulln;;,  patloiit,  free, 
Come,  not  to  sojourn,  bsit  abide  with  me  I" 

His  heart  echoed  the  prayer  ;  tears  rMrang  tohij 
eyes.  What  would  ho  take  to-nigi,t  f;)r  l,ij 
Christian  hope  ?  Never  had  i  t  seemed  so  priceless, 
ilow  precious  the  consciousness  of  his  Lord's 
I.resenco,  approval.  How  could  ho  hear  the  awful 
possihilities  of  the  hour  for  that  passing  soul  m.less 
lie  hud  known  he  Wiis  free  from  the  guilt  of  blood 
had  faithfully  done  all  that  lay  in  his  power  for 
this  man's  salvation.  And  God  had  done  all  He 
could.     Who  was  to  hlame  ? 

He  stepped  over  the  sill  to  the  vestibule  He 
would  go  in.  He  needed  just  the  refreshing  that 
would  come  from  such  simple,  lieart-felt  testi- 
monies as  he  was  sure  to  hear  there. 

The  back  seats  were  full  as  usual.  Ho  had  to  go 
quite  a  distance  up  the  aisle  to  ;::.d  a  place.  They 
were  singing  something  else  now,  and  he  was  un- 
porceived.  Quietly  he  dropped  into  a  seat,  and 
covered  his  eyes.  The  vision  of  the  sick-chamlKn- 
yet  clinging  to  his  memory. 

How  heartily  they  sang.  There  were  tmined  as 
wdl  as  untrained  voices  in  that  throng.  Men  and 
women  who  had  earned  their  living  with  their 
«ong,  men  and  women  who  had  once  lieen  the  boys 
and  girls  of  cultured  homes,  as  well  as  men  and 
women  who  had  never  known  the  meaning  of  that 
word— home.     One  pure,  sweet  alto-a  woman's 


.,  * 


^  i-?y&SJ--i?f.-'*^.se!!:;sn,?^s-*^ 


■■  >>-hiWiffiimi8»»irrii  iiitW"f»^ 


w 


mm 


m> 


282  UKKHKHT  ()Altl)t:NKLL,JR. 

alto— fell  with  peculiar  Hoothiiig  on  the  rainiater's 
mm.  Ho  aid  not  look  ui.Jio  did  not  caro  to  know 
from  whence  i^  came.  Ho  had  rather  liaten  with 
lH>\vedhead  and  chwud  oyos,  drinking  in  the  Hpirit 

,      ^  of  the  song. 

^'''    ^  The    earnest,    honest    prayei-s    that     followed, 

falling  from  lips  all  unusod  to  such  utterances, 
hrought  tears  anew  to  his  eyes.  How  he  loved 
these  rough  diamonds !  Let  others  choose  more 
fastidious  surroundings,  smoother  tongues.  The 
stammerii'g  praises  of  these  lately  depraved  men 
touched  his  heart  as  few  things  could.  Out  of  the 
depths  they  had  cried,  and  \mn\  heard.  Out  of  the 
depths  had  they  l)con  lifted— the  depths  not  only 
of  ignorance  and  wretchedness,  but  of  blasphemy 
nnd  sin.  His  was  a  missionary  heart  wherever  it 
beat  -Americft  or  Africa—ho  loved  the  lost— the 

saved. 

Scripture,  song,  testimony  followed  fast  one 
upon  another.  No  pauses,  no  dull  places.  Tragedy 
and  comedy  were  strangely  mingled  in  the  scraps 
of  heart  history  brought  to  light.  Tho  smile  and 
the  tear  trip  each  other  up  in  the  genuine  mission- 
room. 

At  length  an  old  man  rose.     He  had  once  been 
as  bad  as  any  of  them,  but  had  begun  the  new  life 
something  less  than  a  year  go.     There  had  been 
%\  hard  places  since,  he  wouldn't  deny,  but  never  one 

BO  hard  as  that  he  had  come  to  now.  The  wife 
was  opposing  him  "  turrible,"  and  the  boy  going  the 
very  way  ho  went  himself  once,  wiping  his  eyes, 


liiigMMatiii 


T- 


mmm 


SELL,. JR. 

iiig  on  the  minister's 
did  not  care  to  know 
id  mthor  listen  with 
Irinking  in  the  spirit 

yei-s  that  followed, 
to  such  utterances, 
jyoH.  IIow  he  loved 
,  others  choose  more 
)other  tongues.  The 
lately  depraved  men 
^8  could.  Out  of  the 
vsw  heard.  Out  of  the 
-the  depths  not  only 
3SS,  but  of  blasphemy 
ary  heart  wherever  it 

0  loved  the  lost — the 

y  followed  fast  one 
dull  places.  Tragedy 
mingled  in  the  scraps 
light.     The  smile  and 

1  the  genuine  mission- 

B.  He  had  once  been 
ad  begun  the  new  life 
go.  There  had  been 
I't  deny,  but  never  one 
le  to  now.  The  wife 
"  and  the  boy  going  the 
[)nce,  wiping  his  eyes, 


AN  VNKXl'ECTKU  AIKKTING. 


ns 


the  work  was  dull,  only  about  half  time,  an  '  like  to 
close  altogether  soon.  But  the  ohl  man's  chief 
Korrow  lay  in  the  discouragement  that  had  reached 
his  own  soul.  Temptation  hud  overcome  him,  ho 
li;i(l  given  way  to  a  lit  of  passion  and  "spoiled  it 
;ill."  God  knew  he  wanted  to  be  right — but  l»e- 
tween  it  all,  trouble  without  and  within  -especially 
within — and  no  i)eaco  anywhere — here  he  broke 
down  entirely  and  took  his  seat  in  tears. 

There  was  a  hush  afte-  he  ceased  speaking. 
Every  heart  was  full  of  sympathy  but  no  one  knew 
just  how  to  express  it.  Or  if  anylwdy  did  it  still 
went  unexpressed.  A  quiet  dropped  down  on  the 
company. 

Tlien  suddenly  across  the  silence  came  a  voice, 
Bweet,  clear,  unhesitating,  yet  l)eautifully  modest. 

"  Leave  it  with  Him, 
Til    lilies  all  do, 
And  they  grow— 
Tliey  grow  In  the  rain, 
And  tlieygrow  In  the  dew- 
Yes,  they  grow, 
Tlicy  grow  In  the  darkness,  all  hid  In  the  night ; 
They  grow  In  the  sunshine,  revealed  by  the  light. 
Still  they  grow. 

" The  grasses  are  clothel 
And  the  ravens  are  fed 
From  Ills  store  ; 
But  you,  who  are  loved 
And  guarded  and  led, 
How  much  more 
Win  He  clothe  you,  and  feed  you,  and  give  you  His  care  ? 
Then  leave  It  with  Him  ;  He  has  evei-ywhere 
Ample  store. 


IHWaiMi 


234 


HEllBERT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


^l 


"  Yes,  leave  It  with  Him, 

'Tls  more  dear  to  His  heai+, 
You  well  know, 
Than  the  lilies  that  bloom, 
Or  the  flowers  that  start 
'Neath  the  snow. 
■VThat  you  need,  if  you  ask  It  in  prayer, 
You  can  leave  It  with  Him,  for  you  are  His  care, 
You,  you  know." 

Herbert  started  at  tlie  firat  sound  of  that  voice — 
he  liad  heard  it  before.  He  almost  held  his  breath 
until  the  last  word  fell  from  the  lips.  The  message 
was  for  him  as  well  as  for  this  poor  old  tempted 
saint.  He  would  leave  with  Jesus  the  burden 
pressing  his  heart. 

There  was  a  stillness  ensued  that  seemed  to 
hold  the  very  atmospheie  as  if  an  angel  had  spoken. 
In  the  hush  the  young  clergyman  peered  over  in 
the  direction  whence  the  voice  had  come.  He 
was  not  mistaken.  He  saw  a  pale,  intellectual  face, 
with  deep  s^'uipathetic  eyes,  delicate  nostrils  and 
sensitive  mouth.  It  wi.3  Lenore  Erdley.  Unseen 
himself  he  watched  her  .stealthily  for  the  remainder 
of  the  evening,  reading  every  emotion  of  her  soul 
as  it  mirrored  itself  on  her  faoe. 

The  leader  caught  up  the  spirit  of  her  words. 

"  That  is  just  it,"  he  said,  '•  the  whole  of  religion, 
the  whole  of  life.  Leave  everything  with  Jesus — 
yourself  with  the  rest.  Don't  carry  your  burdens, 
don't  carry  yourself,  and  don't  worry  over  either. 
Drop  them  on  Jesus,  leave  them  with  Jesus.  Be 
sure  He  will  take  care  of  both  them  and  you.     Then 


mmmtmmimimm:--' 


immmtt 


mmm 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 


285 


NELL,  JR. 

Him, 

to  His  liear^, 

lOW, 

lat  blocm, 

that  start 

snow. 

It  in  prayer, 

for  you  are  His  care, 
iw." 

sound  of  that  voice — 
ilmost  held  his  breath 
he  lips.  The  message 
his  poor  old  tempted 
Lth  Jesus  the  burden 

isued  that  seemed   to 

if  an  angel  had  spoken. 

gyniau  peered  over  in 

voice   had   come.     He 

pale,  intellectual  face, 

delicate  nostrils  and 

nore  Erdley.     Unseen 

hily  for  the  remainder 

y  emotion  of  her  soul 

iioe. 

spirit  of  her  words. 
•  the  whole  of  religion, 
crything  with  Jesus — 
't  carry  your  burdens, 
3n't  worry  over  either, 
them  with  Jesus.  Be 
them  and  you.     Then 


you  will  be  sure  to  grow.  Growth  is  not,  never  can 
be,  the  result  of  effort,  but  always  and  only  of  life — 
life  within.     It  must  and  will  find  expression." 

The  meeting  ended,  Herbert  slipped  as  quietly 
out  as  he  had  entered.  It  was  raining  hard.  Fort- 
unately he  had  his  umbrella  with  him.  Not  that 
ho  had  feared  a  shower — seldom  had  an  evening 
looked  less  like  it — but  because,  on  leaving  home 
in  the  morning,  his  mother  had  put  it  in  his  hand 
saying  he  might  need  it  before  his  return. 

He  blessed  her  thoughtful ness  now  as  in  the 
shadow  of  a  building  he  spread  it  and  waited  until 
a  form  he  recognize''  approached. 

"  Will  you  kindly  let  me  share  my  umbrella 
with  you,  Miss  Erdley  ?  "  he  asked,  and  smiled  at 
the  startled  glance  she  gave  him. 

"  Mr.  Gardenell !  "  she  said  in  surprise. 

"  You  did  not  know  I  was  present  at  the  Mis- 
sion to-night.  Allow  me,"  di-awing  her  hand 
through  his  arm.  "  I  was  detained  in  the  city  and 
dropped  into  the  meeting  for  a  rest  hardly  expect- 
ing this  privilege." 

Unused  to  such  attentions  the  young  lady  did 
not  reply.  She  was  almost  troubled.  Her  quiet 
disturbed  Herbert,  who  said  a  good  deal  in  order  to 
draw  her  out.  He  wanted  to  hear  her  talk,  and 
wondered  how  he  should  set  her  at  ease. 

A  happy  thought  struck  him.  "  When  did  you 
hear  last  from  Olive  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  A  week  ago. 


.»'  «>*■■■ 


-■"jm 


MM 


mikuiiiiilmliitidiliiitm 


mmw«iMaMM 


ipipp 


V'f 


286 


IIEBBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


news.     We  had  a  letter 


"  Then  I  have  later 
yesterday." 

She  was  enthused  immediately  ;  her  spirit  kin- 
dled as  he  went  on  giving  her,  as  he  knew  how,  the 
very  essence  of  Olive's  charming  epistle. 

"  Among  other  things  it  contained  the  latest 
word  from  Africa,"  he  continued.  He  felt  the 
womau  at  his  side  grow  still  as  if  her  whole  being 
were  listening. 

"  One  of  Stanton's  boys  has  been  converted." 
She  drew  a  breatli  of  joy.    "  Which  cue  ?  "  she 
questioned  eagerly.     "  Is  it  Balulu?  "  .  i 

He  laughed  softly.  "So  you  know  Stanton's 
Vmys  by  name  as  well  as  the  jest  of  us.  Yes,  it  is 
Balulu.  Miss  Erdley,  would  you  mind  telling  roe 
why  you  thought  it  was  thiit  one  ?  " 

She  answered,  without  a  moment's  hesitation, 

"  He  has  l!)een  laid  very  much  on  my  heait  of  late." 

"  And  mine  also.     I  expected  this  news.     Miss 

Erdley,  you  and  I  seem  to  have  had  very  similar 

experiences  in  some  things." 

She  looked  up  at  him.  He  knew  she  did  not 
undei-stand  the  drift  of  his  words.  Her  lowly 
reverent  spirit  clothed  him  with  the  sacredness  of 
his  office.  She  would  never  have  thought  of  com- 
paring her  sacrifice  over  anything  with  his. 

His  next  word  seemed  far  enough  fi-om  the  last. 

"  There  is  something   about  you  that  reminds 

me  constantly  of  Mr.  Cai-twright.     I  have  heard 

my  sister  speak  of  the  reseniblance  and  I  realize  it 

myself  to-night."  -,-  ^^-  ' 


llliii^lijBiiiiKe-'  ■p•ii^'«ms!mmM*■ 


)ENELL,  JR. 

iW8.     We  had  a  letter 

idiately  ;  lier  spirit  kin- 
der, as  he  knew  how,  the 
inning  epiatle. 
it  contained  the  latest 
intinued.  He  felt  the 
II  as  if  her  whole  being 

has  been  converted." 
.    "  Which  cue  ?  "  she 
tBalulu?"  ;: 

50  you  know  Stanton's 
16  j-ftst  of  U8.  Yes,  it  is 
uldyou  mind  telling  me 
Hit  one?"  "    V 

a  moment's  hesitation, 
uch  on  my  heai't  of  late." 
pectedthis  neivs.  Miss 
o  have  had  very  similar 

3." 

He  knew  tthe  did  not 
his  words.  Her  lowly 
m  with  the  sacredness  of 
rer  have  thought  of  com- 
nything  with  his. 
[ar  enough  fi-om  the  last, 
about  you  that  reminds 
i-twright.  I  have  heard 
jmblance  and  I  realize  it 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 


287 


"  lam  very  glad  if  it  may  be  possible,"  she  said, 
her  voice  echoing  her  words.  "  I  should  like  to 
resemble  l.im.  I  love  him  very  much,"  frankly. 
"  Not  only  because  he  is  wortliy  of  love,  but,  partly, 
I  think,  because  he  is  the  first  young  man  I  ever 
met  iu  a  social  way,  and  talked  with  familiarly. 
My  life,  as  you  know,  is  somewhat  isolated,  and  it 
was  very  delightful  to  live  for  awhile  in  such 
companionship  iis  his  and  Olive's.  He  is  so  human 
and  so  good  I  have  wished  sometimes  he  Avas  my 
brother.  God  will  not  count  that  sin,  will  lie  ?  " 
questioningly,  "  since  I  would  not  make  it  so  if 
I  could  knowing  it  is  not  His  will." 

"  Surely  God  will  never  condemn  in  you  what  is 
so  like  Himself,"  answered  Herbert.  "  Was  it 
not  the  yearning  after  more  of  the  same  kind  of 
love  that  His  Only  Begotten  gave  Him,  that  made 
Him  convert  the  red  clod  clay  of  the  valley  into  sons 
and  daughtera  of  Adam,  stamped  with  His  own 
image,  able,  like  Himself,  to  give  or  withhold  affec- 
tion ?  Fellowship,  Love — freely  and  spontaneously 
given — even  God  covets." 

He  felt  her  eyes  in  the  dark.  It  was  to  her  n 
new  thought. 

"  Then  nothing  ever  comes  to  us,"  her  voice  low 
and  reverent,  "  not  even  this  yearning  for  our 
kind,that  has  not  first  come  to  Him  ?  " 

"  Nothing  ever  biitsin."  The  assurance  thrilled 
his  own  heart  as  he  spoke. 

"  Then  whatever  we  find  in  ourselves  that  we  can 
trace  back  to  Him  is  innocent,  is  sinless,"  making 


i,iM:i.ifi'iiiiriiliiiiitiiilMili 


^gmiiami 


m& 


238 


UERBERT  OAlWENJiLL,  JR. 


<,)[ 

'!-., 


f;l:. 


ready  application  of  liia  words.  "  I  nm  glad  you 
have  said  tliis  to  me,  Mr.  Gardenell.  It  makes 
creation  such  a  beautiful  thing.  Ho  created  us— 
nic— to  satisfy  His  heart.  Not  His  will  only  but 
His  love  spoke  us  into  being." 

"  Are  they  not  one  ?  "  he  queried  gently. 
"  Yes,  they  must  be,  but  we  do  not  of  ten  realize 
them  as  such.     The  fall  so  quickly  succeeds  cre- 
ation that  we  are  apt  to  think,  if  not  to  speak  of 
ourselves  as  creatures  of  chance  or  despotisim— 
tolerated  not  loved — born  to  an  unhappy  heritage 
of  sin,  against  which,  striving  mightily,  we  may  at 
length  win  possible  approbation,  finally  reward." 
"  You  have  not  so  learned  Him  ?  " 
"  No,  oh,  no.     I  have  found  Him  my  heart's  satis- 
faction.    1  never  much  coveted  approbation  or  re- 
ward.    I  think  I  would  rather  at  any  time  be  the 
naughty  child  taken  to  a  mother's  he.-irt  forgiven, 
than  the  good  child  merely  approved." 

Herbert  understood  her  meaning.  What  a  rev- 
elation she  had  given  of  herself.  Were  not  his 
father  and  Olive  right  in  their  estimate  of  this 
woman  ?  He  kept  silent,  unansweringher,  hoping 
she  would  say  more. 

"  Mr.  Gardenell,"  very  timidly,  "  you  are  the 
only  person  outside  of  our  old  doctor,  who  knows  the 
secret  of  my  home  life.  I  should  have  starved 
without  God,"  her  voice  sinking  to  a  whisper. 
He  pressed  her  hand  sympathetically. 
"  You  must  not  commiserate  me,"  she  said.  "  I 
do  not  need  commiseration.    Indeed  I  do  not,"  ear- 


^ENELL,  JR. 

nls.  "  I  Sim  glad  you 
Gardenell.  It  makes 
ing.  Ho  created  us — 
Not  His  will  only  but 

queried  gently, 
wo  do  not  of  ten  realise 

quickly  succeeds  cre- 
ink,  if  not  to  speak  of 
lance  or  despotisim — 
»  an  unhappy  heritage 
ig  mightily,  we  may  at 
tion,  finally  reward." 
I  Him?" 

I  Him  my  heart's  satis- 
ted  approbation  or  re- 
ler  at  any  time  be  the 
)tlier'8  henrt  forgiven, 
ipproved." 

eaning.  What  a  rev- 
srself.  Were  not  his 
their  estimate  of  this 
answering  her,  hoping 

imidly,  "  you  are  the 

doctor,  wlio  knows  the 

should   have  starved 

:ing  to  a  whisper. 

athetically. 

to  me,"  she  said.     "  I 

Indeed  I  do  not,"  ear- 


AN  UNEJCrSUTHU  MEETING. 

nestly,  "  though  I  have  said  to  you  what  I  have. 
I  can  hardly  tell  why  I  have  said  it  unless  it  is 
that  I  feared  you  might  think  I  have  missed  too 
nnicli.  I  have  not  and  you  must  not  think  it.  God 
liiis  more  than  made  up  to  me  all  I  have  seemed 
(<)  lack,  and  I  live  glad-hearted." 

She  was  very  anxious  he  should  believe  it  and 
he  did  and  assured  her  so. 

"  I  could  have  trusted  Mr.  Cartwright  under 
every  circumstance,"  she  went  on.  "  There  were 
times  when  I  longed  to  take  him  to  my  mother's 
side,  tell  him  her  need,  ask  for  his  help.  I  always 
felt  his  pure,  strong  faith  might  lift  her  out  of  her 
misery.  But  I  could  not.  She  would  not  let  me. 
For  some  reason  God  hrought  you  to  her.  And 
that  is  why  I  am  speaking  of  her  to  n\ght.  I  have 
prayed  lor  her  alone  so  many  years  without  seem- 
ing result,  do  you  not  think  God  sent  you  to  her 
.ind  to  me  to  help  us  both  ?  "  ,    , 

Her  voice  faltered  a  little. 

"  He  certainly  brought  me  to  you,  very  unex- 
pectedly, Miss  Erdley,"  answered  Herbert,  with  a 
tlirill  in  his  heart  and  voice.  "  There  must  be  a 
purpose  of  love  in  it  somewhere." 

"  Yes,  and  this  is  why  I  dare  ask  you  to  pray 
with  me  for  mother,  because  her  need  is  so  great 
and  because  you  know  it."  ,v 

"  I  will  join  you,'*  he  said.  "  We  will  take  the 
promise  for  two  who  agree." 

They  had  reached  hei-  door.  She  held  out  her 
hand.    "  Thank  you,"  she  said  simply.       ;  /^ 


mt,»im^iim-„m  i»in.iiiiMi]r--ff"'-''  '■"''-"smiMi 


240 


UKRliEliT  GAlthENELL,  JR. 


"  Thank  you,"  he  answered,  pressing  th(3  little 
palm.  "  Miss  Erdley,  when  you  pray  for  Olive 
and  Stanton,  remember  me." 

"  I  always  do,"  and  she  was  gone.  '    AffS^u 

"  I  always  do."  The  words  made  melody  in  his 
heart  for  days.  How  much  did  he  owe  to  h«r 
prayers  ?  How  much  to  other  prayers  of  which  he 
had  not  yet  heard  ? 

"  Mother,"  said  Herbert  to  that  lady  a  day  or  two 
after  as  she  sat  beside  him,  "  I  wish  we  might  get 
Miss  Erdley  out  here  for  awhile  to  rest,  she  needs  it." 
"  I  wish  we  might,  my  son." 
"  I  never  realized  how  dreary,  how  barren  a  life 
she  lived  until  the  other  night  when  I  shared  with 
her  my  umbrella.  She  said  then — think  of  it, 
mother  1— that  Stanton  was  the  only  young  man 
she  had  ever  met  and  talked  with  familiaily.  She 
was  giving  me  a  reason  for  so  admiring  him." 

Mrs.  Gardenell  smiled.  "  I  wish  I  was  sure 
young  men  were  the  only  things  her  life  lacked," 
she  said. 

"  Must  I  weigh  my  words  with  you,  mamma?" 
asked  the  gentleman  shaking  his  head  reproach- 
fully ;  "  you  surely  underatand  my  meaning." 

"  And  disagree  with  your  conclusions,"  was  the 

smiling  reply.     "  Lee's  life  is  neitlier  dreary  nor 

barren.      It  is   beautifully  bright    and  cheery." 

"  The   marvel   of   it !  "    he  replied.     Yet  you 

are  right.     She  is  a  rare  person,  mother." 

"  Very  rare,"  assented  the  lady. 

"  And  you  will  write  to  her?"  i    ' 


JKLL,  JR. 

1,  pressing  th(3  little 
you  pray  for  Olive 

gone. 
\  made  melody  in  his 

did  he  owe  to  h«r 
•  prayers  of  which  he 

hat  lady  a  day  or  two 

[  wish  we  might  get 

to  rest,  she  needs  it." 

ry,  how  barren  a  life 
;  when  I  shared  with 
.  then — think  of  it, 
;he  only  young  man 
vith  familiarly.  She 
admiring  him." 
'  I  wish  I  was  sure 
ings  her  life  lacked," 

with  you,  mamma?" 
g  his  head  reproach- 
id  my  meaning." 
conclusions,"  was  the 
8  neitlier  dreary  nor 
bright  and  cheery." 
e  replied.  Yet  you 
3n.  mother." 
lady. 

T?"  -         :  '  *r 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 


041 


"Gladly.  Only  don't  count  on  her  coming.  Wo 
have  tried  liofore  and  always  in  vain." 

A  few  days  after  Mra.  Gardenell  received  an  an- 
swer to  lier  note  of  invitation.  With  many  thanks 
it  was  declined.  Her  mother  was  weaker  tlian 
usual  and  needed  her  constantly.  If  she  improved 
enough  to  make  it  possible  Lenore  would  like  to 
spend  a  day  with  them  before  the  summer  ended. 

Yensie  handed  the  lett<^r  to  her  son.  He  read 
it  carefully.  ^  .  . 

.  "  Mother,"  he  said,  "  this  seems  to  lie  a  case 
where  t!»e  Lord'u  encomium  cannot  he  earned  or 
even  striven  for.  Here  are  sick  and  in  prison  and 
we  cannot '  come  unto  them.  '  "  A '  i~ 
"  You  have  visited  their  home,  my  son  ?  " 
"  Once,"  he  made  answer,  and  she  questioned  no 
further. 

The  next  time  Herbert  went  to  tlie  city  he  made 
an  attempt  to  see  Mrs.  Erdley.     She  refused  to 
meet  him. 
Lenore  looked  sadly  troubled. 
"  She  nevar  receives  company  when  she  is  her- 
self," she  explained.  ^    v   -> 
Then  of  what  use  was  it  for  him  to  attempt  to 
minister   unto   her?   wondered    the  young  man. 
What  help  could  he  bring  her  wliile  under  the  in- 
fluence of  this  baleful  narcotic  ?     His  chances  of 
winning  her  to  Christ  were  indeed  small.      He 
pmyed  the  more  eajnestly  therefore  for  the  inspir- 
ation and  guidance  of  the  only  one  admitted  freely 
to  her  presence. 

3:6:  .-.,.;--■...  ,     .     -  . 


'tfT 


242 


UMUB J£liT  QAHDENELL,  JU. 


V  i 


CHAPTER  XXIV.         , 

A  CHAPTEU   OF   EVENTS. 

And  evermore,  benoatli  this  outward  sense         '  "^ 
And  tlirouglv  the  con-mon  sequence  of  eventa, 
He  felt  the  guiding  uaml  of  Providence. 

— WUITTIEB. 

Time  sped  on.  vSunto.i  lunvibered  now,  among 
othar  converts,  not  one  or  two  but  ten  rhiistian 
lyiys  of  those  given  over  to  his  care.  Many  of 
these  were  able  to  go  out  and  ttill  the  story  of  the 
Cross  in  the  surrounding  vilhiges. 

Herbert  liad  his  kind   of  ten  also.      All   con- 
secrated young  men  ready  lo  answer  the  command, 
"  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and  i)reacli  tlie  Gospel." 
Wonderfully  had   God  prospered  his  lal)OJ's  and 
answered  that  prayer  breathed  out  of  his  deepest 
agony,  to  multiply  him  tenfold  if  he  must  stay  at 
home— and   send   him,  through  othei-s   he  might 
prepare,   to  every  corner  of  the  glolw.     Africa, 
China,    India,     Japan,    yea,   Corea     and    South 
,  America,  were  all  represented  in  this  choice  group ; 
every  member  of  which  was  a  picked  man,  able 
to  do  the  highes.  kind  of  work  ;  strong,  physically, 
mentally,  spiritually. 


VEIL,  J  a. 


A  VtlAPTKIt  OF  EVENTS. 


243 


>    ■■  >, 


XIV. 

EVENTS. 

uiitward  sense 
equeiico  of  events, 
Providence. 

— WUITTIEB. 

luvi'oered  now,  among 
wo  but  ten  Thiistian 
1  his  care.  Many  of 
1  ttill  the  story  of  the 
ages. 

ten  al-io.  All  con- 
answer  the  command, 
id  i)reucli  the  Gospel." 
pered  his  lal)OJ's  and 
ed  out  of  his  deepest 
)ld  if  he  must  stay  at 
ugh  others  he  might 
if  the  glolm.  Africa, 
I,  Corea  and  South 
i  in  this  choice  group ; 
IS  a  picked  man,  able 
rk ;  strong,  physically. 


Among  th^m  waj  Tom  Buiion,  the  fruit  of  that 
sorrowful  journey  westward  with  Ids  dead  love. 
Another  was  RolKjrt  Lang'more,  the  soul  garnrrt'd 
from  the  fii-st  sermon  he  preached  in  his  father's 
pulpit.  The  othei'S  were  mostly  young  men  fnmi  liis 
own  clnnch  and  Sunday  school,  each  with  ».  soul- 
history  known  to  their  pastor,  each  re8i)eeted  and 
beloved  in  the  community. 

Harry  Gardenell  had  completed  his  college 
couwe  and  was  taking  civil  engineering.  Eddie 
was  about  to  enter  Dr.  Germaine's  oiRce  as  a 
medical  student.  Both  had  decided  to  give  them- 
selves to  the  work  of  missions,  each  wi;s  preparing 
in  his  own  way.  Hariy's  heart  led  him  where  it 
naturally  might  amid  Ida  surroundings,  to  Africa  ; 
Eddie,  still  uncertain,  waited  for  definit-e  ordera. 

Olive  WS18  developing  into  the  strongest  hind  of 
a  woman;  brave  and  true,  ready  for  every  good 
work  however  hard.  She  had  never  yet  written 
that  word  to  Stiinton  fc>r  which  he  asked  so  long 
ago,  and  he  had  never  repeated  his  question.  His 
life  and  work  however,  in  every  way  possible,  had 
been  freely  shared  with  hor.  She  knew  his  anx- 
ieties and  perplexities,  felt  acquainted  with  his 
people,  carried  his  boys  to  the  Throne  of  Grace, 
exulted  over  their  salvation  and  growth. 

Her  visit  to  his  home  liad  not  beei,\  unfruitful. 
It  had  been  a  great  joy  to  him  to  know  she  was 
there,  to  get  from  her  a  letter  dated  i.vora  the  old 
farm.  But  ho  was  most  glad  when  a  letter  from 
his  youngest  brother,  Ben,  reached  him. 


24 1 


UKUIIKRT  GAIWKNKLL,  JR. 


I" 


r^i 


"  I  say,"  luj  wrote,  "  Ted  and  I  owe  you  a  fjrudge 
for  not  telling  us  wliiitadiiiMyshe  wsvm.  It  jiut  iilxiut 
took  our  breath  when  w  -:  ot  Haw  hen  and  isn't 
she  devoted  to  you  and  Africa  1  VVliy,  she  knows 
as  much  alwut  it  all  as  you  do  youi-self,  an«l  loves 
to  talk  it  over.  All  you  ever  did  or  said  and  the 
places  you  liked  l)est  aie  \vhat  interest  her.  She 
Uikes  her  Bible  and  sewing  and  sits  for  hours  in 
the  old  tree  where  you  used  to  study,  and  she's 
forever  after  us  boys  to  tell  her  more  of  your 
pmnks  and  exploits. 

"  She's  solid  good  too.  You  see  she  took  it  for 
granted  that  Ted  and  I  were  Christians  because 
vou  are,  and  she  talked  to  as  just  as  if  we  were. 
"Wiisn't  it  awful,  though?  I  was  never  in  such  a 
fix  in  my  life.  We  stood  it  just  as  long  as  wo 
could  and  then  we  owned  up.  And  what  do  you 
suppose  she  did?  Why,  just  cried  like  a  baby.  And 
then  she  got  her  arms  about  us  both  and  kissed 
me  and  said,  '  Stanton  way  off  in  Africa  trying  to 
save  the  heathen,  and  his  own  brothers  refusing 
bis  Chnst.' 

"I  tell  you  I  felt  bad.  It  looked  mean— 
'  meaner 'n  dirt,'  as  Samantha  says— but  I  couldn't 
8eeni  to  help  it.  Ted  caved  in  fii-st  and  I  followed, 
and  we  mean  business  too.  She's  as  happy  as  a 
bird,  chirping  over  us  and  reading  to  us  and  pray, 
ing.  Yes,  its  a  fact,  she  prays  with  us  every  night. 
Mother  just  adores  her,  and  we  fellows  don't 
come  far  from  it.  I  wish  she  hadn't  any  other 
home.  Say,  old  fellow,  Ted  and  I  are  wond(;iiiig 
why  you  didn't  take  her  off  with  you?  We  don't 
think  she'd  have  objected."  


Was  Stanton  sorry,  after  the   reading   of   that 
letter,  that  he  had  come  to  Africa  alone?    Never. 


immm 


rKI.L,  JR. 

1 1  owo  yoii  a  f?vu<lge 
le  wsvH.  It  jiMltilxiut 
,t  Hiiw  hen  rt»'*l  i»'>'t 
tl     VVliy,  hIio  knows 

0  youi-self,  iiiifl  loves 
did  or  Hrtid  and  the 

,t  interest  her.     She 

,nd  sits  for  hours  in 

to  study,  nnd  sho's 

1  her   more  of  your 

u  see  she  took  it  for 
5  Christians  becftuse 

just  as  if  we  were, 
wiis  never  in  such  a 

just  as  long  as  wo 
>.  And  what  do  you 
•ied  like  a  baby.  And 
us  both  and  kissed 
T  in  Africa  trying  to 
vu  brothers  refusing 

It   looked   mean — 

says— but  I  couldn't 

1  fii-st  and  I  followed, 

She's  as  happy  as  a 

iding  to  us  and  pray, 

s  with  us  every  night. 

id    we   fellows  don't 

she  hadn't  any  other 

and  I  are  wondering 

vitli  you?     We  don't 


the   reading   of   that 
\f rica  alone  ?     Never. 


A  CllAPTKIi  OF  EVXNTH. 


246 


Would  ho  have  had  these  boys  miss  their  spiritual 
nioiherhood  ?  Not  for  worlds.  His  next  letter  to 
Olive  was  the  very  essence  of  tender  reverence. 
She  wept  her  fill  over  it. 

♦'  SonielKidy  honors  me,"  remarked  Herbert  look- 
ing up  from  a  reccnitly  received  letter  from  his 
friend.  "This  is  the  third  time  Stanton  has 
icftsri-ed  to  something  in  my  sermons,  quoting 
sentences  from  them.  I  wonder  who  is  my  re- 
porter? "  looking  smilingly  from  his  mother  to  his 
sister. 

"  Not  I,"  said  Mis   Gardenell,  "  I  am  guilt- 

less."  , 

"  Not  I,"  echoed  Olive.  "  I  haven't  the  ability. 
It  must  be  Lee." 

"Leel  Miss  Erdley,  do  3'ou  mean?"  in  un- 
Inmnded  astonishment.  "  Where  and  when  does 
she  hear  nie  preach  ?" 

"  Why,  Herbert  Gardenell  I  is  it  possible  you  do 
not  know  that  Lee  Erdley  is  a  member  of  your 
church?  Such  ignorance  is  reprehensible.  Papa 
baptized  her  when  she  lived  with  us ;  she  had  been 
waiting  for  the  privilege  for  yeai-s." 

"  Which  fact  by  no  means  answers  my  question, 
Olive.  She  never  attends  church.  At  least  I 
have  seen  her  but  once." 

His  sister  laughed.  "  She  is  as  easily  and  as 
natnmlly  hidden  as  a  violet  or  arbutus,"  she  said. 
"  Nevertlieless  she  misses  very  few  Sunday-morn- 
ing sermons;  she  heard  the  tii-st  you  preached 
as  pastor  and  the  last,  two  days  since."  ,  f 


:s^*i^"i;^!«-iRV^v.S-:AKB^'J^^&^^ 


'i^ 


mm 


JIEKBERT  OAHDESKLL,  JR. 

Still  her  brother  Heuined  unconvinced.  ♦'  It  is  in- 
oroiliblo  thiit  she  hIk.iiIiI  uttond  so  regularly  with- 
out  my  knowledge." 

"  Not  80  incredible  iw  that  she  Hhonld  carry  awiiy 
BO  much  of  what  you  have  said  and  iw  you  say  it," 
WJW  the  laughing  reply.  "  She  mya  your  sermons 
feeil  her,"  slyly,  as  her  brother'H  face  Hushed  a 
little,  "and  I  hIiouUI  think  they  might  the  way 
she  takes  them  in:  I  think  she  must  be  one  of 
nature's  own  sUmographei-s,  she  can  carry  whole 
sermons  in  her  brain  and  repeat  without  notes 
whole  paragra[)hs  of  anything  she  heaix  or  reads. 
She  heard  Stanton  the  Sunday  ho  preached  for 
papa  when  manmia  was  sick,  and  she  is  constantly 
referring  to  what  he  said  at  that  time,  in  one  way 
or  another.  She  must  have  fed  on  that  too,  I  think, 
for  she  certainly  has  repeated  it  all  to  me  piece- 
meal. I  thought  it  quite  wonderful  myself,  and 
was  very  proud  of  him,  and  yet  only  a  few  of  his 
statements  remained  with  mc." 

"  Are  you  sure  Lee  writes  to  Stanton  ?  " 

"  Reprizes  her  lettein  next  to  his  Bible,  he  wrote 
me  recently,"  said  Olive.  "  What  ought  I  to  think 
of  that  ?  He  addresses  her,  '  Dear  sister  Leo '  and 
signs  himself,  '  Your  brother  Stanton.'  " 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  take  it  much  to  heart, 
Princess." 

"  Indeed  I  do,  and  it  does  my  heart  good.  I 
know  of  only  one  thing  that  would  delight  my 
heart  more." 

She  looked  up  with  meaning  and  met  liis  eyes. 


EI.L,  JR. 


A  CIlAPTEIi  OF  KrSNTH. 


247 


nviiicea.     "Itiain- 
l  HO  ii'gularly  wilh- 

10  hhonld  carry  awiiy 
I  iiiul  iw  you  »>^y  *t'" 
0  HiiyH  your  Hermoiis 
iev'«  face  flushed   iv 
Llicy  uuf,'ht  the  way 
bIio  must  be  one  of 
iho  cau  carry  whole 
3I)ciit   without  notes 
Hho  heai-H  or  reada. 
day  he  prcanhed  for 
imd  she  is  constantly 
hat  time,  in  one  way 
d  on  that  too,  I  think, 
d  it  all  to  me  pieco- 
onderful  myself,  and 
[yet  only  a  few  of  his 

to  Stanton  ?  " 

to  his  Bible,  he  wrote 

^Vhat  ought  I  to  think 

Dear  sister  Lee'  and 
Stanton. 

e  it  much  to  heart, 

my  heart  good.     I 
it  would  delight  my 

ng  and  met  his  eyes. 


Tlmy  wore  so  gravely  sad,  oven  troubled,  that  she 
dared  not  add  anotliur  wovd. 

"  Mamma,"  she  cried,  as  he  turned  abruptly  and 
Itfft  the  room,  'Mnamma,  will  he  nov»Tget  over  tlio 
past?  Must  he  always  keep  his  heart  in  tlie 
^(rave  ?  " 

Her  mother  drew  her  close  and  took  the  flushed 
elieeks  iK'tween  her  hands. 

"Ilia  heart  is  not  in  any  grave,"  she  said.  "  It 
is  b>Mting  strongly  and  bravely  in  his  lx>som.  My 
little  daughter  over  whom  somo  one  I  know  has 
exercised  so  mu(!h  patience  ought  suiely  to  Ihj  llio 
last  to  grow  impatient  of  another.  Herbert's  heart 
and  life  are  in  the  keeping  of  his  Lord,  we  need 
have  no  feai-s  concerning  them." 

But  IIeil)ert  had  grave  feai-s  for  himself.  There 
li:id  been  a  gentle  confidence,  a  friendliness  about 
Lenore's  greeting  in  their  chance  meetings  since 
that  night  at  the  mission,  which,  while  it  in  no  way 
detracted  from  the  modest  deference  she  had  ever 
shown  liim,  yet  assured  him  of  her  favor  and  es- 
teem. And  something  witliin  him  sprang  up  to 
greet  every  mention  of  her  name. 

And  it  troubled  him,  the  outward  moving  of  his 
soul  towards  this  maiden.  It  ought  not  so  to  be. 
lie  had  loved  once,  and  with  him  once  ought  to 
bo  forever.  Ho  struggled  manfully  and  prayed 
nmch,  and  at  last  tried  to  put  her  entirely  from 
liis  thoughts.  How  was  that  possible  when  he 
was  pledged  to  meet  her  daily  at  the  throne  of  God 
to  ask  her  mother's  salvation  ? 


i'"«i'i  iiTiii  1 11 1  fiifiitfrrf-^ 


248 


IIERliERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


m 


n'' 


*[) 


lie  went  out  of  his  sister's  presence  that  morn- 
ing to  his  stu(\y,  to  his  knees.  Into  th«  midst  of 
liis  perplexity  and  distress  crept  the  lines  he  had 
hoiird  her  repeat  that  night  for  another's  soothing. 

"  Leave  it  with  Him 
The  lilies  all  do, 
And  they  grow." 

To  be  sure  I  Had  he  forgotten  that  the  secret 
of  all  overcoming  was  not  struggle  but  abandon- 
ment to  Jesus  Christ  ?  He  laid  this  thing  of  which 
he  vfOR  almost  ashamed  on  the  heart  of  his  Lord, 
and  for  the  present,  at  least,  was  comforted. 

Ray  was  coming  home.  The  letter  announcing 
this  fact  hardly  reached  New  York  before  he  ap- 
peared himself,  and  all  tlie  cheerful  bustle  of  joy- 
ous greetings  and  happy  questionings  began. 
What  a  change  it  brought  to  the  home,  grown  so 
quiet  of  late,  to  have  this  merry  gentleman  with 
his  wife  and  bright-eyed  baby  making  its  echoes 
ring  with  mirth  and  song. 

He  was  sunburned  and  grown  thin,  his  curly 
hair  "  almost  wool,"  as  Herbert  slyly  suggested, 
his  whole  appearance  reminding  one  forcibly  of 
the  colored  boy  who  once  sailed  out  of  that  harbor. 
His  brother  smiled  and  then  sighed  over  the 
recollection. 

"  The  fact  is,  Hcrv,  I  never  recall  that  escapade 
of  mine  without  a  sort  of  reverent  awe.  It  is  to 
me  a  wonderful  revelation  of  how  surely  God  an- 
Bwei-8  prayer.     Had  I  not  possessed,  as  I  did,  thank 


.i.if 


ENELL,JR. 

I'a  presence  that  niorn- 
33.  Into  th«  midst  of 
crept  the  lines  he  had 
for  another's  soothing. 

th  Him 
ill  do, 
y  grow." 

rgotten  that  the  secret 
struggle  but  abandon- 
laid  this  thing  of  which 

I  the  heart  of  his  Lord, 

t,  was  comforted. 
The  letter  announcing 

]"e\v  York  before  he  ap- 

i  cheerful  bustle  of  joy- 

y    questionings    began. 

to  the  home,  grown  so 

merry  gentleman  with 

baby  making  its  echoes 

.  grown  thin,  his  curly 
[erbert  slyly  suggested, 
ninding  one  forcibly  of 
jailed  out  of  that  harbor, 
d   then  sighed  over  the 

ever  recall  that  escapade 
'  reverent  awe.  It  is  to 
1  of  how  surely  (rod  an- 
possessed,  as  I  did,  thank 


A  CnAPTEB  OF  EVENTS. 


249 


find,  a  father  and  mother  and  brother  who  could 
not  be  denied  my  salvation  I  fear  I  should  have 
drifted  into  eternity  unshriven.  I  wn«  so  near  it. 
I  shuddernow,  sometimes,  when  I  recall  the  strange 
fancies  that  held  me  in  that  Border-land.  It  will 
always  be  to  me  an  argumetit,  not  only  for  the 
I)ower  of  prayer,  but  also  for  the  supernatui-al  in 
roligion.  God  may  and  undoubtedly  does  lead 
many  men  naturally  and  quietly  to  Himself,  to 
others  He  has  to  open  the  very  doors  of  the  in- 
visible. And  He  will  if  He  must  for  the  soul  that 
lias  hptiii  travs'.iled  for  must  be  born." 

He  drew  his  mother  tenderly  towards  him  and 
kissed  her  as  he  spoke. 

"  Twice  my  mother  if  not  thrice,"  he  whispered. 
"  You  at  least  underetand  what  Paul  meant  when 
he  wrote  '  My  little  children  for  whom  I  travail  in 
birth  again  until  Christ  be  formed  in  you." 

Then  Herbert  told  him  of  Robert  Langmore's 
experience.  "Another  illustration,"  exclaimed 
Rny.  "  I  suppose  there  are  many  such  if  we  but 
knew  them,  and  that  not  among  ignorant  and 
superstitious  people  only,  but  our  Ijest ;  those 
brought  up  under  the  gospel  sound,  and  used  to 
the  voice  of  prayer." 


250 


HERBEUT  GAUDENELL,  JR. 


II,         M 

41 


!l 


iM  I* 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

MISS    BUNCH.        '  •    • 

"  Should  I  wrong  her  gentle  trust, 

Serene,  complete,  *• 

Wliat  keenest  loss  forever  must 

My  future  meet. 
We  walk  through  ways  wltl.  danger  fraught, 

Of  naught  afraid, 
In  sweet  exclwnge  of  inmost  thought 
My  little  maid. 

— CoBA  Stewabt  Wiieeleb. 

The  old  nursery  was  in  requisition  once  more. 
Not  for  baby  but  Ray,  who  took  up  his  quarters 
there,  declaring  it  was  just  the  place  he  needed  for 
a  quiet  hour  of  study  and  rest. 

The  room  opposite  to  it  became  an  extemporized 
nursery,  since  it  adjoined  the  chamber  selected  for 
the  young  pair.  To  this  spot,  sacred  to  baby, 
Herbert  loved  to  repair,  especially  at  her  bedtime 
when  she  lisped  her  prayers  and  repeated  to  her 
mother  little  scraps  from  the  history  of  her  day. 

His  sister-in-law  was  to  Heibertan  ideal  woman. 
She  had  been  such  in  her  girlliood  and  was 
especially  so  now  as  the  pure  wife  and  holy 
mother.    He  loved  to  watch  her  with  her  not  yet 


,^     -.-^-^ 


■aV*.  ^'^  i'^;^'#^ 


tENELL,  JB. 


MISS  AUNCir. 


251 


,  XXV. 

NCH.  ■    ' 

ntle  trust, 

■'I 

!Ter  must 

B  wit1.  danger  fraught, 

nmost  thought 

OEA  Stewabt  Whekleb. 

,  requisition  once  more. 
10  took  up  his  quarters 
t  the  place  he  needed  for 
rest. 

became  an  extemporized 
the  chamber  selected  for 
is  spot,  sacred  to  baby, 
specially  at  her  bedtime 
jrers  and  repeated  to  her 
the  history  of  her  day. 
Heibertan  ideal  woman, 
her  girlhood  and  was 
\e  pure  wife  and  holy 
itch  her  with  her  not  yet 


four-year-old  darling,  the  immediate  pet  and  play- 
tiling  of  the  household. 

Little  Yensie  Cartwright  Gardenell  was  a  thing 
of  beauty  and  a  joy  forever.  "Miss  Bunch,"  iier 
fiither  called  her,  "  Birdie,"  her  mother,  "  Sweet 
liL'iirl;,"  came  most  naturally  to  her  Uncle  Herbert's 
lips.  She  was  ooon  his  devoted  follower  and 
helper,  spending  houi-s  in  his  study,  riding  on  his 
sliouldera  over  the  house,  accompanying  him  to 
town,  making  herself  generally  companionable. 

Ray  was  immensely  delighted  at  the  wonderful 
devotion  between  niece  and  uncle,  though  he  pre- 
tended some  distress,  declaring  himself  forsaken 
and  obliged  to  resort  for  comfort  to  his  mother  and 
sister.  His  offspring  regardud  him  with  troubled 
eyes,  and  kissed  hiiji  regretfully  while  she  reasoned 
with  thij  unnatui-al  jealousy. 

"  You  know  1  love  you,  papa,  just  as  much  and 
am  your  own  little  girl  just  the  same,"  she  said 
soothingly.  "  But  poor  Uncle  Herbert  hasn't  dot 
iiany  little  baby  at  all,  an'  only  wants  to  borrow  nie 
a  little  while." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ?  why,  I  don't  object  to  that," 
answered  papa,  apparently  quite  relieved,  and  just 
restraining  in  time  the  joke  over  Herbert's  bachelor- 
liood  that  rose  to  his  lips.  He  was  tender  over  his 
brother's  sorrow. 

"  I'm  willing  to  loan  you  if  it's  not  forever, 
Bunch." 

"  Oh,  papa,  you  is  so  dood.  An'  p'raps  I'll  be 
dood  all  er  time  now  too,  I  'spect  I  will,"  went  on 


ifea*.asfe3gsfta 


252 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


this  wheedle-wee  much  given  to  moralizing, 
"  'cause  Uncle  Hervit's  so  dood  I  gness  I'll  catch 
it." 

She  seemed  much  disconcerted  at  her  father's 
laughter.  "  Things  does  be  catching,  you  said  so, 
papa,"  striking  him  with  her  little  hand.  "  An- 
an'  I  took  er  measles  cause  I  was  wiv  er  little 
boy." 

Hdr  father  hurried  her  to  the  door.  "  Run  up 
to  uncle,"  he  said,  "  run  fast,  I  want  it  to  catch 
quickly,"  and  then  he  turned  back  laughingly  to 
his  mother. 

She  shook  her  head  at  him  vainly.  "  She's  a 
chip  of  the  old  block,"  he  said.  "  I  named  her  for 
you,  hoping  she  might  escape  her  paternal  heritiige 
and  go  back  to  you  for  her  proclivities.  She  hivs 
a  fearful  temper." 

"  You  didn't  know  me,  Ray,  when  I  was  the 
trial  of  Aunt  Sally  Walton's  life,"  answered  his 
mother. 

"  I  heard  her  speak  of  it  once  Avhen  I  refused  to 
repeat  my  dose  of  the  Shorter  Catechism  and  she 
locked  me  in  the  closet.  I  kicked  the  door  off 
its  hinges  and  she  called  me  my  mother's  child.  I 
was  so  indignant  at  what  I  considered  an  insult  to 
your  memory,  that  I  ran  at  her  with  both  fists 
crying,  'My  niamniA  if  better  than  you.'  'So  she 
is  '  she  exclaimed  laughing.  If  you  turn  out  as  well 
as  she  has  I'll  be  proud  of  you." 

Mrs.  Gardenell  smiled.  "  Yet  your  little  girl  is 
right,  Raymond,  when  sho   ( omplains   that  yon 


pp. 


i-'  i 


-•K'A--»if^v^'^jkii^s^'y^H^A^-'i-ki>^ 


given  to  moralizing, 
dood  I  gi;ess  I'll  catch 

ucerted  at  her  father's 
;  catching,  you  said  so, 
ler  little  hand.  "  An- 
36  I  was  wiv  er  little 

0  the  door.  "  Run  up 
xst,  I  want  it  to  catch 
led  back  laughingly  to 

him  vainly.  "  She's  a 
aid.  "  I  named  her  for 
pe  her  paternal  heritiige 
r  proclivities.     She  hiis 

Ray,  when  I  was  the 
I's  life,"  answered  his 

once  Avhen  I  refused  to 
ter  Catechism  and  she 

1  kicked  the  door  off 
8  my  mother's  child.  I 
considered  an  insult  to 
at  her  with  both  fists 
;er  than  you.'     'So  she 

If  you  turn  out  as  well 
^ou.''' 

"  Yet  your  little  girl  is 
0   ( omplains   that  you 


MISS  BUNCH. 


253 


laugh  at  her.  You  ought  not.  She  said  nothing 
that  was  not  quite  proper  and  to  her  reasoning 
correct.  I  think  even  it  may  Iks  correct  to  highest 
roiuso.ii.MQ^.  Why  should  not  good  as  well  as  evil 
be  infectious?"  ;  v r  . 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  about  that,  mamma,  it  is 
the  way  she  says  things  that  is  funny.  You  re- 
member liow  Princess  used  to  wheedle?  Well, 
Miss  Bunch  is  just  such  another.  I  should  like  to' 
bo  behind  the  study  door  some  day  when  she  is  hold- 
ing forth  to  Herv.  If  that  fellox.  doesn't  shako 
his  sides  its  because  he  has  less  sense  of  the  ludi- 
crous than  I  Jiave  or  more  self-control." 

And  Ray  Wivs  not  mistaken.  It  took  all  the  power 
of  which  Herbert  was  master  at  times  to  keep 
his  face  straight  under  this  baby's  questionings. 

"  Uncle  Hervit,  will  it  make  your  thoughts  lose 
if  I  ask  you  just  a  little  question  ?  " 

"No,  dear."  .  .  v,-:-  -v^. 

"  Well,  Uncle  Hervit,  wh.  ';  makes  er  naughty 
want  to  be  naughty  in  us  all  er  time  an'  we°not 
want  it  to  be?" 

There  was  a  question  for  the  doctors.  The 
gentleman  was  puzzled  how  to  answer. 

"  What  kind  of  naughty  does  my  sweetheart 
mean  ?" 

"The '^err^«^<^on  kind."  j>!'^:'V  ,    -    ; 

"'Terruption."  Uncle  studied  the  word  a  mo- 
ment. 

"How  does  the  'terruption  kind  act,  darling?" 
he  inquired. 


■I 


iS^Y^r:)--^  ^siifi  -y-:.  ';'v>S^v;\>>v!3^aS 


wifiiiffiUfT^^flifc^... 


•*"■<(,. 


254  HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 

'  «  Oh,  it  wants  to  make  min'ster's  stop  writing 
sermons  an  take  little  dirls  in  their  arms.  Its 
kinder  tired,  I  dess." 

Herbert  smiled.     "  Oh,  interruption !   That  isn't 
naughty,  pet."  lifting  her  to  his  knee. 
■.:   "  But  it's  Hnier  naughty,  I  s'pose,"  looking  up 
at  him   trustfully  from  eyes  so  like  his  mother's 
though  hedged  with  a  tangle  of  golden  curls. 

"  No,  it  isn't  even  a  little  naughty  if  it  waits  as 
patiently  as  it  can  and  then  asks  politely  for  atten- 
tion." „    .  , 
Uncle  Hervit,  I  like  'tention-I  like  you,  with 

a  Wg  hug. 

Another  day  he  was  attracted  by  a  great  sigh 
from  the  little  one  at  his  feet.  He  stopped  his 
pen  and  smiled  into  the  eyes  watching  his  move- 
ments so  narrowly. 

"  Does  you  have  to  write  all  er  time,  Uncie 

Hervit  ?  "       ■'■■:-.■-''- r^^.  ':  .    ' -  . '  <.^    'H-  ^.m 

"No,  darling,  not  all  the  time." 

"But  you  write  more  an'  my  papa  do.  He  got 
his  sermon  done  awful  quick." 

"  But  uncle  has  magazines  and  papers  to  write 
for  as  well  as  sermons.  Does  my  sweetheart 
understand?"  lifting  her  to  his  lap  and  openinrr 
first  a  paper  and  then  a  magazine  for  her  inspec- 
tion. She  looked  over  the  articles  be  pointed  out 
as  carefully  as  if  reading  them. 

"Is  that  what  Aunt  Olive  does,  too?"  she 

asked. 

»  Yes,"  he  answered,  smiling  at  the  shrewdness 


-  'Wr^'^i'^^s^-;>H'^.^>^'^'«^ 


■JSSm 


OENELL,  JR. 

min'ster's  stop  writing 
irk   in   their  anns.  Its 

nterruption !  That  isn't 

bo  his  knee. 

;y,  Is'pose,"  looking  up 

es  80  like  his  mother's 

jle  of  golden  curls. 

le  naughty  if  it  waits  as 

lu  asks  politely  for  atten- 

jntion— I  like  you"mi\\ 

ttracted  by  a  great  sigh 
8  feet.  He  stopped  his 
syes  watching  his  move- 

ivritb  all  er  time,  Uncle 

\r,  time." 

an'  my  papa  do.    He  got 
uick." 

zines  and  papers  to  write 
.  Does  ray  sweetheart 
sr  to  his  lap  and  openiiiff 
magazine  for  her  inspec- 
he  articles  he  pointed  out 
them. 
Olive  does,  too?"  she 

miling  at  the  shrewdness 


MISS  BUNCH. 


265 


of  the  child  wlio  had  discovered  bo  readily  what  so 
few  of  his  sister's  friends  guer°ed. 
"  Is  it  Africa  you  write.   Uncle  Hervit  ?" 
"  Sometimes.     And  sometimes  other  things." 
"  Jesus  things  ?  to  make  peoples  dood  ?  " 
"  Sometimes  things  to  make  people  good,  some- 
times things  to  make  people  wise.     Do  you  under- 
stand the  difference,  darling?  " 

She  shook  her  curly  head.  "  Uncle  Hervit,  you 
know  most  eberything,  doesn't  you  ■?  "  she  said, 
admiringly.  "  You'se  not  er/r«<!  man  God  made 
cause  you're  not  Adam,  but  you  know  most  more'n 
Adam  did,  don't  you?" 

"  In  some  things,  perhaps,"  answered  the  gentle- 
man cautiously.     "  In  other  things  not  so  much." 
"  What  more  things  does  you  know  ?  " 
He  smiled.      "Adam  did  not  know  so  much 
alx)ut  our  Saviour,  pet.     Jesus  had  not  been  born 
or  crucified  for  us  then." 

"  I  know  about  Jesus,"  proudly. 
"  Yes,  even  a  little  child  now  may  be  wiser  in 
some  things  than  the  wisest  man  of  those  days." 
"  Not  Sol'mon  ?  "  with  wide  open-eyes, 
"  Yes,  wiser  even  than  Solomon,  darling." 
"  My  papa  say  you  is  a  very  wise  man.  Uncle 
Hervit,  an'  Sol'mon  was  very  wise   man,  but  he 
make  some  mistakps  an'  so  does  you.     But  you 
doesn't,  does    you?"    with    utmost    confidence. 
"  Cause  you  doesn't  wart  nany  wifes  an'  babies 
for  yourse'f ;  courae  you  don't,  when  you  has  my 
mower  an'  me ! "  with  a  hug.    "  But  I   know 


-.•»'«ifefS!i'riti'-, 


•*^ 


1, 


jg||  IIFAtnKRT  GARDKNELL,  JH. 

Sol'mon.     He   was  the   most   wisest  an'  c. 
iinnerwisest  man  in  er  wb.ol''  world  ■ivtr." 

Surely  Ray  was  not  the  wisest,  Herbert  conchul;  .1 
ai»  he  looked  into  the  little  face  so  gravely  puz".  l 
and  kissed  the  sweet  lips  before  replying. 

"My  little  swt^^^^artnmdu.icit  tiviuble  her  heal 
C'/er  8ucl.  matters.  God  doesn't  want  her  to  be 
very  wise  yet." 

"Not  till  my  hair  grows?"  asked  the  child 
solemnly.     What  could  she  mean  ? 

"  I  do  not  understixiid  you,  darling." 

"  No,  I  doan  unnerstan'  pupa  eiver,  an'  hi"!  say 
vmt  till  my  hair  grow." 

Herbert  smiled;  that  was  so  like  his  brother. 
"  Papa  only  meant  to  say  his  little  girl  could  not 
understand  until  she  giew  older.  You  know  your 
hair  grows  a  little  every  month,"  he  explained. 

Her  intelligent  e3'e8  showed  she  was  foil -wing 
him.  "  But  perhaps  I  can  explain  it  a  little  to 
you,  dear.  Solomon  was  wise  because  God  told 
him  so  many  things  other  men  did  not  know." 

«  An'  unnerwise  ?  "  inteiTupted  the  eager  child- 
voice. 

•  And  unwise  because  he  did  not  act  as  he  knew 
God  wished.  I  am  not  sure  you  will  understand 
me,  darling,  but  it  is  wisdom  to  know  the  will  of 
God  K.id  unwisdom  not  to  do  it." 

"  You  do  it,  doan  you,  Uncle  Hervit  ? "  con- 
fidervtly  looking  into  his  face. 
"  I  try,  pet." 
''  I  try  too,"  she  said  cdmpladently,  "  an'  seme. 


i 


!5i!s^»j^^.^fet4*       w ^ '';EL„*sic  t,^      '5^' 


■«f««l"^p>< 


'Mi 


^NELL,  JR. 

,<■,   wisest  an'  er  nr 

•  world  liVf  r." 

est,  Herbert  concliul^  1 

nee  so  gravely  puz".!  d 

fore  replying. 

i'tiAVo  trouble  her  heu'l 

oesn't  want  her  to  be 

-s?"   asked  the   child 

mean  ? 

I,  darling." 

pupa  eiver,  an'  hi"!  say 

is  80  like  his  brother, 
lis  little  girl  could  not 
ilder.  You  know  your 
nth,"  he  explained, 
wed  she  wa**  foil  -nring 
,  explain  it  a  little  to 
vise  because  God  told 
len  did  not  know." 
rupted  the  eager  child- 
did  not  act  as  he  knew 
e  you  will  understand 
)m  to  know  the  will  of 
lo  it." 

Uncle  Hervit?"  con- 
5e. 

mpladently,  "an'sdme. 


stt88  arircff.  0jf 

times  I  docs   it,  but  sometimes  I  don't"  with  a 
si^ii. 

It  wius  only  a  few  cap  after  when  her  father 
found  her  in  the  I'pper  hall  with  n  very  cloudy  face. 
What  ha.,  gone  wrong,  Bunch?"  he  stopped  to 
ir     live.  v 

"ilf«ha.sI"dolef(rtly. 

"That's  nothing  new,  come  tell  papa  what  has 
happened?" 

"  I'se  gone  and  been  like  Sol'mon,  papa." 

Only  his  mother's  appearance  at  this  crisis  and 
her  warning  look  kept  Ray's  countenance  steady. 

"  How  has  my  baby  been  li'^e  Solomon  ?  "  askerl 
grandma,  drawing  the  child  to  her  arms. 

"I  know  mamma  didn't  want  mo  to,  anr  i 
did,"  whispered  the  little  omj  slowly. 

"  You  have  been  disobedient  ?  is  that  it,  Buk  ' 
How  does  that  make  you  like  Solomon  ?  "  a^.  'i 
her  father,  considerably  in  the  dark.         a,    , 

"  Oh,  'cause  he  knew  and  he  didn't  eiver,"  sighed 
the  child. 

"  Grandma  doesn't  understand,"  said  Mra.  Gar- 
denell  gently;  "won't  my  little  Yensie  tell  me 
what  she  means  ?  " 

"  Why,  grandma,  don't  you  know?  Uncle  Hervit 
'splained  it  to  me,  Sol'mon  was  wise  'cause  he 
knew  what  God  w{<,nt,  an'  unnerwise  'cause  he 
didn't  do  it" 

"  Uncle  Herbert  must  look  out  or  he'll  be  mak- 
ing a  theologian  of  you,  Bunch,"  said  her  father 
solemnly. 


»iiiE*.««i.v-'.^Mil^aiii;4te'^^&t«.  ''^■■'^■^'-■i'^~^-Vif^r\'^ttMii 


258 


HERBERT  OARDKNELL,  .TR. 


"  The— ole-goshen  isa't  anysing  bad,  is  it, 
papa?'*  cried  the  child.  "  Uncle  Hervit  wouldn't 
make  me  anysing  bad,  he's  bo  good  ?  " 

"  He's  the  best  man  in  the  world,"  answered  hor 
father  reassuringly.  "  But  I  fear  my  little  daugh- 
ter hasn't  improved  much  yet  by  his  society 
according  to  her  own  confession." 

And  he  left  his  mother  to  deal  with  the  small 
culprit  while  he  went  to  join  his  wife  aud  brother 
in  making  some  necessary  calls. 


«"  '' 


1 .  . 


r* 


ve  i 


fe' .Mitw'nV-^-i-Kfikfo    w  •■  •^airiiiSSi'W 


THE  BEST  MAN  IN  THE  WORLD. 


268 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  BEST   MAN    IN  THE  WORLD. 

"  Write  it  on  your  tieart  that  every  day  is  tlie  beat  day  in 

the  year."— EuBUSON. 

-?■ '      ■■.'■' 
"  And  tilings  can  never  go  badly  wrong, 
If  the  heart  be  true  and  tlie  love  be  strong  ; 
For  the  mist  if  it  comes,  and  the  weepini;  rain. 
Will  bj  changed  by  the  love  into  sunshine  ajain.'' 

Miss  Bunch  had  a  new  thought  in  her  little 
noddle,  her  father  had  put  it  there.  She  kept  it 
to  heraelf  as  long  as  it  was  possilUe,  then  it 
blossomed  into  speech.  She  was  in  the  study  Jis 
usual,  and  at  Herbert's  feet,  her  dolly  in  her  lap. 

"  You  must  be  very  still,  Daisy,"  she  said,  lid- 
dressing  her  waxen  darling,  '*  'cause  Uncle  Hervit 
doesn't  like  to  be  'tenupted  an'  it  udbe  a  Sol'mon 
to  'terrupt  him,  only  you  can  aiffh  if  you're  very 
tired,"  the  little  speaker  here  drawing  a  dismal 
breath. 

The  gentleman  kept  his  face  steady  by  effort 
and  went  on  with  his  writing  as  if  he  had  not 
heard. 

"  Uncle  Hervit  isn't  like  Adam,"  continued  the 
tiny  lady  still  addressing  her  doll,  "caud  Adam 


260 


HERBERT  OARDBifKLL,  JB, 


kl*Z 


li 


ho  was  naughty  an'  ttealed,  and  had  to  he  turned 
out'u  er  garden,  my  papa  said  so.  An'  he's  not 
nice  Sornum,"  scornfully,  "  caudSol'mon  wouldn't 
do  the  wise  he  know  an'  our  uncle  always  does. 
No,"  with  great  satisfaction,  "Uncle  Hervit  never 
does  anything  wrong,  he's  the  best  man  in  the 
world  1" 

This  was  too  nmch  for  the  listener.  Such  devo- 
tion deserved  reward.  lie  threw  aside  his  {yen  and 
suddenly  lifted  her  to  the  ceiling  and  buck  again 
to  her  great  delight.  "  On'y  I  might  have 
dropped  Daisy,"  she  observed,  an'  of  course  I 
wouldn't  like  to  hurt  her.  She's  good,  awful  good, 
.  y  she  can't  talk.  I  like  peoples  that  talk,  Uncle 
Hervit,  an'  as  don't  has  t(>  write  all  er  time." 

"  I  like  peoples  that  can  talk  loo,"  said  uncle, 
tossing  her  in  the  air  like  a  ball  ui.d  catching  her 
again;  " little  peoples  just  about  lus  big  as  sweet- 
heiirt  Gardenell." 

«  An'  you  wouldn't  like  to  make  the  ole-goshen 
outen  your  sweetheart  would  you,  nunkey?" 
she  cried,  claspinghis  neck  with  hei- dimpled  arms. 
"  I'm  not  sure  I  know  what  the  old  Goshen  is," 
he  laughed.  "  But  I  deny  any  deaire  to  make  you 
even  a  day  older  than  you  are,  blossom,"  throwing 
her  up  to  the  ceiling  again. 

"  There,"  she  said  radiantly,  as  she  caught  her 
breath,  "  wait  till  I  see  papa  1  He  said  it  himself : 
'  Yov  must  look  out  or  you'd  make  the  old-goshen 
of  me.'  I  knew  you  wouldn't  if  it  was  horrid,  an' 
^eve  isn't  no  place  to  look  out  only  er  windows, 


♦r*' 


mmmmmtmmK 


■UN 


''pw... 


'NKLL,JR. 

mid  liad  to  be  turned 
,id  80.  An'  Iio'b  not 
aud  Sol'mon  wouUhrt 
,r  uncle  always  does. 
"Undo  Uory'ii  never 
the  bust  man  in  the 

I  listener.  Such  devo- 
iu-ew  niside  his  yten  and 
eiling  and  back  again 
On'y  I  might  have 
ved,  an'  of  course  I 
ihe's  good,  awful  good, 
ioples  that  talk,  Uncle 
•rite  all  er  time." 
talk  loo,"  said  uncle, 
ball  ui.d  catching  her 
tbout  as  big  as  sweet- 

;o  make  the  ole-goshen 
ould  you,  nunkey?" 
with  hei-  dimpled  arms, 
at  the  old  Goshen  is," 
iny  deaire  to  make  you 
re,  blossom,"  throwing 

tly,  as  she  caught  her 
,  I  He  said  it  himself : 
'd  make  the  old-goshen 
ii't  if  it  was  horrid,  an' 
:  out  only  er  windows, 


TUB  niCST  MAN  IN  TUX  WORLD. 


261 


an'  there's  no  olegosljon  tiumi,  is  there,  I'nde 
Ilorvit  ?  You  i«  tlie  best  man  in  the  world,  iw»V 
you,  darling  ?  " 

♦*  Uncle  Ilervit,"  was  a  modest  man.  He  re- 
turned her  hugs  witii  interest  but  denied  tlie 
chargp.  ♦'  My  little  aioca  thinksHo  Injcausoshe  loves 
me,"  he  said,  pariying  tlm  «iuestion. 

"  But  my  j)apa  say  so.  Is  it  caud  ho  lovos  you 
too,  nunkey  ?  " 

"  Yes,  darling,  I  think  it  must  Ikj." 

"  And  ain't  you  trulif  t "  asked  the  little  faiiy, 
quite  crest-fallen  and  ready  for  teans.  "Oh,  I 
fought  you  was  I " 

"  I  try  to  be  the  best  I  can,  darling,  and  God 
looks  at  the  try  in  my  heart  and  not  at  my  failure. 
It  is  possible  He  may  count  me  good,"  said  uncle 
comfortingly. 

"  I  has  a  try  in  my  heart,  uuukey,  doea  God  sea 
that?" 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"An*  is  Himdlad?" 

"  Very  glad." 

"  An'  won't  Him  look  at  the  naughty  at  all,  only 
er  try  ?  " 

"  He  see's  both,"  replied  Herbert.  "  But  if  He 
sees  the  try  is  big  and  honest,  darling,  I  know  He 
will  forgive  the  naughty ;  and  if  you  ask  Him 
He  will  keep  you  from  being  naughty." 

"I  do  ask  when  I  don't  fordet,"  she  whis- 
pered, kissing  over  and  over  i^ain  the  lips 
tliat  had  spoken  such  good  news.    "  An'  I'm  not 


'^S^i 


:'d}^»ni& 


"^v.. 


M 


262 


HERBERT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


t '  4i 


"1 


goin'  to  fordet  nany  more,  an'  my  papa'll  l)e  s'prised 
cause  I  is  so  dood  an'  he  won't  laugh  'bout  its  beiri' 
catchin.'  It  does  catch,  doesn't  it,  Uncle  Hervit— 
your  dood  ?  " 

And  oh,  how  uncle  laughed  and  smothered  her 
with  kisses!  So  the  frolic  began.  Back  and  forth 
and  up  and  down  the  study  they  chased  each 
other.  On  hands  and  knees  went  the  young 
minister  .o  play  hoi-se  with  the  tiny  lady  perched 
on  his  back,  her  fingers  holding  on  byhdiair,  her 
cliildish  voice  falling  in  peals  of  laughter.  Finally, 
flushed,  breathless  with  triumph,  high  up  on  iiis 
shouldei-s,  she  was  carried  to  the  rooms  below  to 
find  the  family.  From  one  room  to  another  they 
galloped,  but  not  a  glimpse  of  any  one  could 
be  found.  They  trotted  to  the  kitchen  and  horae 
and  rider  each  indulged  in  a  fresh  doughnut  from 
Jane's  dish.  They  visited  the  conservatory  and 
the  young  lady  thrust  a  pink  in  her  own  little 
bosom  and  one  behind  each  ear  of  her  faithful 
steed.  As  they  approached  the  back  parlor  they 
heard  the  sound  of  voices — home  voices.  Neither 
of  them  had  heard  the  bell  ring, — which  was  not 
such  a  wonder  considering  the  racket  they  had 
been  in — it  was  morning,  moreover,  and  of  course 
no  time  for  company.  So  in  they  pranced  with 
a  flourish.  The  charger,  in  dressing-gown  and 
slippers.  Just  then,  under  the  pressure  of  the 
rein,  which  by-the-bye  was  a  lock  of  hia  own  hair — 
he  drew  up  suddenly  and  stopped  before — Miss 
Erdley. 


V0 


NELL,  JR. 

my  papa'll  l)e  s'prised 
't  laugh  'bt)ut  its  beiri' 
n't  it,  Uncle  Hervit— 

ed  and  smothered  lier 
3gan.  Back  and  forth 
dy  they  chased  each 
563   went    the    young 

the  tiny  lady  perched 
ling  on  by  h  ;  hair,  her 
J  of  laughter.  Finally, 
umph,  high  up  on  his 
to  the  rooms  below  to 
I  room  to  another  they 
jse  of  any  one  could 
» the  kitchen  and  horae 
a  fresh  doughnut  from 

the  conservatory  and 

pink  in  her  own  little 

ch  ear  of  her  faithful 

the  back  parlor  they 

■home  voicea.     Neither 

ring, — which  was  not 

[g  the  racket  they  had 

loreover,  and  of  course 
in  they  pranced  with 

in   dressing-gown  and 

ir  the  pressure  of  thi3 
lock  of  his  own  hair  - 
stopped  before— Miss 


THE  BEST  MAN  IN  THE  WORLD. 


263 


Herbert  felt  the  little  shock  that  went  over  her 
as  with  flushed  face  and  disordered  hair,  holding 
on  to  his  little  niece  with  one  hand,  he  extended 
to  lier  tho  other.  His  blue  eyes  were  brimful  of 
merriment,  his  voice  shook  with  it,  srs  conscious 
was  he  of  the  almost  horror  of  the  lady  in  view  of 
the  liberties  this  baby  had  taken  with  the  person 
of  the  minister.  She  had  known  Stanton  as  a 
happy,  rollicking,  natural  young  man,  himself  only 
aa  a  religious  teacher,  a  preacher.  Which  would 
she  prefer,  pulpit,  onitor,  or  man  ?  Would  loss  of 
dignity  detract  from  his  value  ?  He  was  man 
enough  to  be  interested  in  the  pioblem,  to  bo 
amused  over  its  funny  side. 

He  drew  baby  from  his  shoulder  to  his  knee, 
and  while  she  took  his  face  between  her  hands  and 
walked  all  over  him.  attempted  to  talk  to  the  vis- 
itor. The  young  iady  tried  to  bo  poiite,  to  ignore 
the  situation,  and  as  the  convcrsat'on  became  gen- 
eral, listened  attentively  to  Raymond,  who  showed 
unmistakable  signs  of  admiration  for  this  friend  of 
his  sisters.  But  Herbert  waa  conscious  that  her 
eyes  kept  coming  back  to  his  face  almost  curiously, 
and  meeting  them  once  with  a  frank  smile  he  le- 
ceived  one  quite  hs  frank  in  reply. 

Somehow  the  frolic  had  wakened  the  boy  in 
him.  He  had  not  felt  so  ready  for  fun  in  two 
years.  It  was  as  if  the  weight  of  care,  the  burden 
that  had  lately  oppressed  him,  slipped  off  and  left 
him  free.  He  made  a  charming  conversationalist 
in  such  a  mood.    Ray  crossed  swords  with  him  to 


"    A'^ii, 


h'if^»    '■■  '^i^^y^/: 


■7!*-y, 


k 


234 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


be  defeated.  There  was  no  resisting  the  good 
fellowship  of  the  atmosphere.  Lee  was  curried  off 
captive  to  the  luuch'jrooia ;  Olive  gliully  reiuoying 
her  wrap  and  liat.      .,  ■  .i'S'.^vK'''.  .-■>  ..;.>  '-^^^Xjii; 

Seldom  has  a  meirier  meal  been  eaten,  or  by  a 
gayer  company.  Olive  exchanged  glances  with 
mamma  when  Herl)ert,  with  dress  rean-anged  and 
hair  freshly  brushed,  but  with  the  iiuliance  of  his 
face  undisturbed,  took  his  seat  at  the  table.  She 
felt  almost  content.  Harry  and  Eddie  were  both 
at  home,  papa  and  Stanton  only  missing.  If — 
that  little  word  kept  Olive's  cup  from  running 
over.  ■'•,'':;ii'- 

"I  want  to  sit  by  Unole  Ilervit,"  cried  Miss 
Bunch,  allowed  on  this  oect^ion  to  eat  with  her 
elder's.  And  the  booor@d  g«i)tleijaau  lifted  her 
chair  to  his  side.  ^    ;  ,  :      i  :;^'i 

"  Papa,  what  made  you  say  Uncle  Hervit  is  the 
best  man  in  the  world  ?  '*  suddenly  burst  forth 
Raymond's  little  daughter  in  the  midst  oi  the 
meal,  her  spoon  half-way  to  her  mouth.  i.; 

"I  certainly  thought  so,"  answered  Mr.  Car- 
denell  cautiously,  UHed  to  his  baby's  tactics  and 
properly  on  his  guard. 

"  He  says  he  isn't,  and  he  knows,"  was  the 
triumphant  response,  as  tho  contents  of  the  spoon 
disappeared. 

''Simplicity  thou  art  a  child,"  laughed  Bay- 
mond,  looking  at  his  brother.  "  Ladies,  I  beg  to 
explain.  My  little  daugliter  is  logically  inclined, 
And  having  heard  me  make  some  comment  on  her 


mhL,  JR. 


THE  BEST  MAN  IN  THE  WORLD. 


265 


i-esisting  the   good 

Lee  was  cumed  off 

live  gladly  removing 

been  eaten,  or  by  a 
lauged  glances  with 
diess  reanunged  and 
I  the  mdiance  of  his 
At  at  the  table.  She 
ind  Eddie  were  both 

only  uiissing.  If — 
s  cup  from  running 

Ilervit,"  cried  Miss 
laion  to  eat  with  her 
gentleman  lifted  her 

r  Uncle  Hervit  is  the 
suddenly  burst  forth 
in  the  mi(M  of  the 
ler  mouth. 

'  answered  Mr.  Car- 
is  baby's  tactics  and 

he  knows,"  was  the 
contents  of  the  spoon 

jhikl,"  laughed  Bay- 
it.  "  Ladies,  I  beg  to 
•  is  logically  inclirsed, 
jome  comment  on  her 


uncle's  worth  she  immediately  interviews  him  on 
tlie  subject  and  concludes,  quite  philosophically 
too,  that  knowing  himself  better  than  I  do,  and 
being  himself,  and  therefore  unable  to  deceive,  I 
must  have  been  misuken  in  my  premises." 

Miss  Ei*dley  just  then  meeting  the  i-oguish  eyes 
of  the  subject  of  all  these  remarks  laughed  as  he 
begged  her  sympathy  and  patted  his  niece's  curly 
head. 

"  Good  people  do  not  always  know  they  are 
good,  Yensie,"  said  grandma,  taking  pity  on  the 
perplexed  little  face. 

Don't  they  ?  Hum  I "  with  a  little  sniff  of  con- 
tempt for  such  ignorance.  "  I  always  does  when 
I'se  dood." 

In  the  laugh  which  followed  Herbert  succeeded 
in  calling  the  child's  attention  to  her  plate. 

The  after-lunch  talk  wa.  quieter  if  no  less 
bright.  The  little  one  fell  asleep  in  her  uncle's 
arms,  and  was  carried  by  him  to  bed,  Gatty  follow- 
ing. He  came  l)ack  to  the  parlor  presently,  the 
same  light  on  lip  and  brow.  There  was  a  i'ascina- 
tion  about  his  glatlness  that  was  infectious. 

The  afternoon  was  advancing  when  the  party 
broke  up,  Lee  insisting  that  she  must  go  home. 
Herbert  joined  her  at  the  door  with  coat  and  hat. 

"  I  am  going  your  way.  Miss  Erdley,"  he  said. 
"•  And  will  trouble  you  with  my  company  if  you 
don't  object." 

And  as  they  started  down  the  street  together 
Olive's  eyes  again  met  her  mother's. 


*.A 


'M^WWaqjffilJri^CJRIIgl^NDitinH^ 


*' 

m 


AM 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


"  I  want  to  inquire  concerning  your  mother, 
Mias  Erdley,"  said  the  gentleman  presently. 

"  She  is  no  better.  I  think  she  is  even  a  little 
weaker  physically,  otherwise  there  is  no  change. 
Sometiraeb  I  almost  despair,  but  that  is  not  natural 
to  me,  and  then  the  pendulum  swings  the  other 
way.     But  there  ic  veally  no  reason  for  hope." 

"  Except,"  he  said.  ?^^: 

"  Except,"  she  assented,  meeting  his  eyes.    'A 

They  parted  before  she  reached  her  destination, 
he  going  one  way,  she  another.  He  )'  ;d  no  reason 
to  urge  for  accompanying  her  further.  She  almost 
feared,  but  did  at  last  glance  backward  once.  It 
was  to  find  him  also  looking  after  her,  the  same 
bright  smile  illuming  his  face. 

She  was  glad  she  had  seen  him  thus,  knew  both 
sides  of  his  nature.  The  sweet,  strong,  uplifted, 
almost  supernatural.  The  pure,  bright,  unaffected 
natural.  Were  they  not  perfect  halves  of  a  whole  ? 
Her  undefiled  womanhood  went  out  oo  do  rever- 
ence to  this  undefiled  manhood.  In  home  and 
church  alike  able  to  bear  the  most  rigid  scrutiny, 
able  to  lift  an  unblemished  front. 

God  give  America  tens  of  thousands  of  such — 
pure  women,  holy  men  1  These  are  the  bulwarks 
of  a  liation ;  she  needs  nothing  else  to  insure  her 
safety,  her  perpetuation  1 

"  Herbert,"  said  Olive  that  night,  "  it  is  delight- 
ful to  see  you  your  olden  self.  Your  face  still 
shines." 


>feU'> 


-..tii'v,.a._i,ii,ts. 


^NELL,  JB, 


TUE  BEST  MAN  IN  THE  WOBLD. 


267 


jerning  your  mother, 
iman  presently. 
:  she  is  even  a  little 
3  there  is  no  change, 
but  that  is  not  natural 
.um  swings  the  other 
reason  for  hope." 

iieeting  his  eyes, 
iched  her  destination, 
er.  He  1  ;d  no  reason 
r  further.  She  almost 
!e  backward  once.  It 
ig  after  her,  the  same 
je. 

n  him  thus,  knew  both 
veet,  strong,  uplifted, 
)ure,  bright,  unaffected 
•feet  halves  of  a  whole  ? 
went  out  oo  do  rever- 
ihood.  In  home  and 
lie  most  rigid  scrutiny, 
front. 

f  thousands  of  such — 
'heso  are  the  bulwarks 
bing  else  to  insure  her 

at  night,  "  it  is  delight- 
i  self.    Your  face  still 


"  Somehow  I  seem  to  have  struck  a  higher  strata 
of  air,"  he  laughed,  "  it  is  full  of  exhilaration." 

"And  Lee  likes  }'ou  so,"  c^nanued  his  sister,  in 
a  tone  which  reached  ita^'s  puij  though  her  words 
did  not,  fo'*  hr,  vvas  sif-ing  in  the  window  and  she 
was  pauing  up  and  down  the  ven.nda  with  Herbert. 

"  Look  out,  Herv,"  he  cried.  "  It's  time  to  put 
up  a  danger  signal.     Olive  is  wheedling." 

"  I'm  doing  nothing  of  the  sort,"  she  retorted, 
"am  I,  Hervie?"  holding  his  arm  close  and  look- 
ing into  his  face.  "  Buu  didn't  she  look  divine  in 
that  old-fashianed  ifilk  ?  She  does  her  own  dress- 
making— think  of  it ! — and  always  has  things  so 
becoming,  so  in  mode,  yet  never  extreme." 

"  You  would  hardly  expect  Miss  Erdley  to  be 
extreme  in  anything,"  said  Herbert,  lest  his  sister 
be  vexed  with  his  quiet.  ^  ^ 

"  Except  her  goodness  and  the  texture  of  her 
dresses.  They  must  have  been  very  wealthy  some 
time,  for  she  never  has  anything  common  or  quite 
new.  Now,  honest,  Herbert,  did  you  ever  see  any- 
thing prettier  than  her  dress  to-day?" 

"  Honest,"  answered  her  brother  laughingly,  "  I 
did  not  notice  a  thing  she  wore.'' 

"  Oh,  Hervie  ! "  groaned  his  sister,  "  if  I  had 
worn  anything  so  pretty  you  would  have  com- 
plimented me." 

"  Because  you  are  mine,"  he  answered.  "  That 
is  nothing  strange." 

"  I  think  it  is  strange  you  should  not  admire  the 
admirable."  » 


i^^WiWS^^^WWBSWKRav^" 


,1*^',/ 


W'- 


I 


268 


HERhERT  GARLUNELL,  JR. 


^?*i.- 


"  I  do  admire  Miss  Erdley  very  much."         ' 

"  When  will  ynu  get  over  calling  her  Miss 
Erdley,  and  adopt  C'lr  name  for  her?"  she  cried 
in  chagrin.  "  Herbert,  I  wish  you  would  be  good 
and  admit  the  truth.  Honest,  truly,  can't  you  see 
her  just  as  she  looked  this  afternoon  when  she 
laughed  at  Bunch?" 

"  I  certaini  can  recall  just  how  she  looked," 
he  smiled.  "  But  not  a  thing  concerning  her  dress 
except  that  it  was  dark  and  soft  and  clinging." 

Olive  clapped  her  hands.  "  She  never  wears  any- 
thing that  is  not  soft  and  clinging  as  if  it  loved 
her.  Herbert,"  whispering,  "I  wish  you  loved 
her." 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said,  stooping  to  kiss  her. 
•'  That  ought  to  satisfy  you,  Princess,"  and  there 
was  an  undertone  of  pain  in  his  voice. 

"  Herbert,"  she  said,  "  please  let  me  say  what  is 
in  my  heart.  Papa  was  talking  to  me  once  about 
mamma  before  she  married  him,  and  it  surprised  me. 
I  had  never  thought  of  them  apart.  And  I  said, 
'  Papa,  I  thought  mamma  always  belonged  to  you,' 
and  he  answered  me — listen,  Herbert — '  She  did, 
but  I  didn't  find  it  out  (or  yeare.'  Herbert" — her 
voice  falling  ver^  low,  "  I  always  think  of  i\is 
words  when  I  see  you  and  Lee  together — you  be- 
long to  each  other  and  have  not  found  it  out." 

He  did  not  answer  her.  He  simply  unlinked 
her  hand  from  his  arm,  pushed  her  gently  yet 
sternly  one  side,  and  went  in,  leaving  her  alone. 

There  was  a  timid  rap  at  the  study  door  at  bed- 


INSLL,  JR. 


THE  BKST  MAN  IN  THE  WORLD. 


200 


very  much." 
irer  oHlling  her  Miss 

for  her  ?  "  she  cried 
ih  you  would  be  good 
it,  truly,  can't  you  see 
}  afternoon  when  she 

ast  how  she  looked," 
g  concerning  her  dress 
soft  and  clinging." 
"  She  never  weaiw  any- 
lihging  as  if  it  loved 
"I  wish  you   loved 


time.  Herbert  rose  and  opened  it  and  looked 
down  into  the  wistful  face  lifted  to  hia. 

"I'm  so  soiTy.  Forgive  me  for  spoiling  your 
beautiful  day.  I  will  never  mention  her  name  to 
you  agfain,"  she  said. 

"  Never?  "  he  questioned  gently.  "  That  is  too 
far-off  a  day  for  my  little  sister  to  reckon  about ; 
you  will  forget.  But  don't  cry  or  grieve,  darling. 
I  assure  you  I  do  not  love  you  less  because  3'ou 
love  Lee  so  much."  Then  he  kissed  her  and  led 
her  to  her  chamber  door. 


stooping  to  kiss   her. 
,  Princess,"  and  there 
his  voice. 

ase  let  me  say  what  is 
cing  to  me  once  about 
m,  and  it  surprised  me. 
m  apart.     And  I  said, 
vnys  belonged  to  you,' 
I,  Herbert — 'She  did, 
■eare.'     Herbert" — her 
always   think  of  i\is 
jee  together — you  be- 
not  found  it  out." 
He  simply  unlinked 
ashed  her  gently  yet 
1,  leaving  her  alone, 
the  study  door  at  bed- 


t,  '*' 


i(f3%-i-:\'  ' 


BERBEBT  OARDENMLL,  JM, 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

A  RBVrXATION.  '  ■: 

"We  sit  down  to  reckon  up  the  darkness  .  .  .  .^.      We 
ought  rather  to  count  tlie  stars  Thou  hast  set  therein.' 
"  God  must  grow  Into  the  empty  pla(  ea  of  life." 

IlAYMONn  Gardenell  had  come  home  to  his 
native  lan(J  for  a  purpose,  just  as  he  had  hjft  it  for 
a  puipose,  .iiid  the  purposes  were  one  :  The  exten- 
sion and  strengtliening  of  our  Mivster's  kingdom 
on  the  American  continent. 

To  this  end,  after  a  short  rsst,  he  was  expected  to 
travel  up  and  down  the  hvnd  telling  the  things  he  had 
seen  and  heard,  presenting  the  needs  of  the  country 
and  thb  work  in  which  he  was  interested,  rousing 
Christians  to  the  necessity  and  privilege  of  im- 
mediate co-operation  in  its  behalf. 

He  had  many  long  conferences  with  his  brother, 
who  was  nearly  rnt  well  acquainted  with  the 
facts  as  himself,  ccncorning  the  best  methods 
of  promoting  his  object.  They  were  hand  and 
glove  in  the  enterprise. 

Raymond  had  become  enamored  of  the  land  of 
his  sojourn,  and  was  determined  to  offer  himself 
as  a  missionary  to  South  America  as  soon  as  he 


WELL,  Jtt, 


A  REVELATION. 


271 


XXVII. 


TION. 


he  darkness We 

Du  hast  set  therein." 
pla(  ca  of  life." 

md  rome  home  to  his 

list  as  he  had  h)ft  it  for 

were  oiio  :  The  exten- 

our  Master's  kingdom 

» 

rest,  he  was  expected  to 

telling  the  things  he  had 

the  needs  of  the  country 

was  interested,  rousing 

r  and  privilege  of  im- 

behalf. 

rences  with  his  brother, 

acquainted    with    the 
ling   the   best  methods 

They  were  hand  and 

snamored  of  the  land  of 
irmined  to  offer  himaelf 
America  as  soon  as  he 


should  have  accomplished  the  task  set  him.  His 
descriptions  of  the  country  and  people,  and  their 
tioinendous  need  had  taken  strong  liold  on  his 
youngest  brother's  heart,  and  Eddie  began  to  in- 
quire if  God  would  not  have  him  go  back  with 
Kiiyuiond  when  he  should  be  ready  to  return. 

Gatty  accompanied  her  husband  as  far  as  Maine, 
where,  after  a  short  stay,  he  left  lier  to  finish  the 
long  visit  looked  forward  to  for  months,  with  her 
mother  and  brothere.  A  great  vacuum  seemed 
opened  among  those  they  had  left.  Life  appeared 
very  prosaic,  Olive  declared,  with  no  bab'  to  tease, 
and  no  brother  t(.  tease  her,  and  nothing  but  com- 
mon, 0 very-day  wcrk. 

"  But  common,  every-day  prose  is  the  staple  of 
life  and  poetry  only  its  pastime,"  Herbeit  re- 
minded her,  A  remark  which  his  mother  chal- 
lenged. 

"  Every  true  life  is  a  poem,  "  she  said,  "  where 
commas  and  colons,  exclamations  and  interro- 
gations abound,  with  periods  more  or  less  frequent. 
But  whose  staple  after  all  is  neither  of  these,  but 
beautiful  stretches  of  imagery,  reality,  and 
thought :  with  wondrous  revelations  of  truth  and 
love  and  glimpses  of  a  glory  ready  to  be  revealed. 
The  final  period  being  only  the  taking  of  breath 
before  the  opening  of  the  next  and  sublimer 
canto." 

There  had  always  been  a  vbry  close  friendship 
between  the  Germaines  and  Gardenells.  The  doc- 
tor had  never  forgotten  the  debt  his  young  life 


*^ 


272 


HERBERT  OABDENELL,  JR. 


owed  Mm.  Gardenell— then  MIhs  Walton— and 
from  the  hour  his  paHtor  brought  her  to  his  hoiius 
hia  bricUn  his  heart  and  sympathies  and  purse  had 
been  at  their  disposal.        v    . ; 

The  children  of  the  two  honses  had  been  com- 
panions and  playfellows  from  ^=rth.  Dr.  Ger- 
maine  being  specially  fond  of  roadie,  who  was 
about  the  ago  his  Horace  would  have  been  had  he 
not  died  in  infancy. 

Olive  was  a  year  or  two  older  than  Grace,  but 
they  were  fast  friends,  especially  so  since  Grace 
had  promised  to  l)o  Tom  Burton's  wife,  and  follow 
him  to  the  mission  field,  for  Olive  would  always 
hold  those  nearest  who  had  given  their  lives  as 
bad  her  lover,  to  the  Foreign  work. 

Olive  had  been  calling  on  Griv  e  this  morning  ; 
they  had  been  exchanging  conhdences  as  girls 
will.  She  had  left  her  friend  busy  in  her  own 
room,  and  run  down  to  let  hei-self  out  of  the  front 
door,  when  Mrs.  Germaiue  appeared  with  a  ques- 
tion. ^^ 
"Have  you  heard  fw  n  Stanton  recently?' 
■r  "Nothing  since  the  tidings  of  fever  at  the 
station  reached  us,"  answered  the  girl,  her  face 
telling  the  story  of  her  fears. 

"  Olive,"  said  the  usually  gentle  little  lady,  "  if 
anything  happens  to  Stanton,  you  will  never  for- 
give yourself.  How  could  you  let  him  go  away  as 
you  did,  dear,  when  you  owed  him  so  much— your 

mother's  very  life  ?  " 

Two  blue  eyes  flashed  up  to  hei-s  in  questioning. 


TELL,  Jli. 

W\m  Walton — ami 
jlit  lier  to  his  homo, 
ithies  and  purse  had 

mses  had  been  c«»m- 
)m  ^Ttli.  Dr.  Ger- 
of  roadie,  who  was 
Id  have  been  had  he 

der  than  Grace,  but 
lially  so  Bince  Grace 
;ou's  wife,  and  follow 
Olive  would  always 
given  their  lives  as 
work. 

Grn  e  this  morning; 

conhdences   iws   girls 

nd  busy  in  lier  own 

Bi-self  out  of  the  front 

ppeared  with  a  ques- 

,nton  recently?" 

ng8  of   fever  at    the 

ed  the  girl,  her   face 

gentle  little  lady,  "  if 
1,  you  will  never  for- 
ou  let  him  go  away  as 
id  him  so  much — your 

to  hei-a  in  questioning. 


A  REVELATION, 


978 


"  I  ought  not  to  have  mentioned  this,"  said  the 
huly,  "  hut  it  has  Ixjen  in  my  thoughts  all  the 
nioiiiing,  and  was  sure  to  leak  out  without  care. 
I  think  you  ought  to  know,  however,  that  it  was 
l)y  the  tninsfusion  of  Stanton  Cartwright's  blood 
into  your  uiother's  veins  that  her  life  was  spared." 

There  was  a  little  rustle,  and  both  ladies  looked 
up  to  find  Dr.  Germaine  standing  near  listening. 

"  Horace,  I  fear  I  shall  lose  my  reputation  ft)r 
prudence,"  said  his  wife,  "  but  the  secret  slipped 
out  unawares." 

•'  And  none  too  soon,"  answered  her  husband. 
"  I  wish  now  I  had  told  it  long  ago.  Olive,  I  am 
disappointed  in  you.  I  never  thought  yon  would 
let  Stanton  go  away  without  hope,  and  wlien 
you  did  I  supposed  it  was  a  whim  of  which  you 
would  soon  weary.  But  I  begin  to  think  you  hard- 
hearted. I  venture  now  you  have  not  had  the 
grace  to  write  him  a  single  word  of  love  in  all 
these  four  years." 

The  delicate  face  flushed,  the  eyes  and  lips 
quivered.  * 

"A  woman  is  not  a  man,  Horace,"  the  little 
woman  suggested  gently.  "  She  finds  it  hard  to 
unveil  her  heart  when  urged,  well-nigh  impossible 
to  anything  but  urgency." 

"  Nonsense,"  answered  the  gentleman,  but  not 
unkindly.  "  If  ycu  defend  this  bit  of  baggage, 
Esther,  I  shall  consider  it  proper  cause  for  divorce. 
What  more  urging  does  Olive  require  ?  Is  Stan- 
ton Cartwright  a  baby  doll  to  change  liis  mind? 

IS 


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274  HERBERT  GARDENELL,  jn. 

Is  not  hi3  question  still  awaiting  an  answer? 
Who  doubts  whether  he  n.eant  it?  Not  Olive  I'll 
be  bound.  I  tell  you  it  is  neither  politeness  or 
modesty  to  withhold  bread  from  a  starving  man, 
because  he  does  not  tease  for  it.  Why,  Olive,  what 
would  you  think  of  my  Ruth  if  she  served  your 
brother  Harry  after  such  a  fashion  ?  I'd  like  to 
have  her  try  it."  ^^     , 

"  Somebody  is  taking  my  name  in  vain,    cried  a 

brightrfaced  young  girl  coming  over  the  front  steps 

with  a  flash,  for  she  had  heard  another's  name 

also.    "  What  are  you  saying  about  me,  papa  ?  " 

"Nothing  very  dreadful.  Puss,"  pinching  her 

cheek.  ,     ^     »        a 

"You  are    quite   right   Horace— doctor,     saia 

Olive  humbly,  and  with  flaming  cheeks. 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her,  putting  out  a  hand 
to  draw  her  close,  but  she  evaded  it,  rushing  out  of 
the  door  and  down  the  street  as  if  pursued. 

"  Why,  Papa  Germaine,  what  were  you  saying  to 
grieve  her  so  ?  There  were  teara  in  her  eyes.  It's 
a  good  thing  Grace  did  not  see  them  ;  she  adores 
Olive  and  is  no  end  jealous  of  Lee  Erdley." 

"  I  repent,"  said  the  gentleman  smiling.  "  Her 
'Horace— doctor'  is  always  too  much  for  me,  it 
brings  back  her  babyhood.  Do  you  remember, 
Esther,  how  she  used  to  sit  on  my  knee  when  we 
were  fii-st  married.  She  was  such  a  wee  fairy.  She 
never  could  understand  why  she  might  not  call 
me  Horace,  since  her  mother  did  so ;  she  got  up  the 
little  compromise  herself,  and  added  the '  doctor. 


■oPMNWIHPpn*" 


I,  jn. 

ing  an  answer? 
?  Not  Olive  I'll 
ler  politeness  or 
,  a  starving  man, 
Why,  Olive,  what 
she  served  your 
on?     I'd  like  to 

)  in  vain,"  cried  a 
irer  the  front  steps 
I  another's  name 
)ut  me,  papa  ?  " 
js,"  pinching  her 

ce — doctor,"   said 
cheeks. 

utting  out  a  hand 
i  it,  rushing  out  of 
if  pursued, 
were  you  saying  to 
s  in  her  eyes.    It's 
them ;  she  adores 
.ee  Erdley." 
,n  smiling.     "  Her 
0  much  for  me,  it 
)o  you  remember, 
my  knee  when  we 
ch  a  wee  fairy.  She 
}he  might  not  call 
J  so ;  she  got  up  the 
dded  the '  doctor.' " 


A  REVELATION. 


276 


"  She  calls  mamma  '  Aunt  Esther.'  " 

"  Your  mother  is  responsible  for  that,"  replied 
the  doctor.  She  taught  her.  Poor  baby,  she  wrjs 
too  young  and  too  near  and  dear  to  us  both,  to 
address  us  as  cold  Mr.  and  Mra.  Germaine,  so  your 
mother  coined  a  relationship.  She's  a  charming 
little  girl-woman,  if  she  has  treated  Stanton  Cart- 
wright  shamefully." 

"  We  must  hope  it  has  been  a  blessing  to  him,  it 
undoubtedly  has  to  her,"  said  Mra.  Germaine,  turn- 
ing the  best  side  up,  as  was  l»er  habit.  "  It  is  won- 
derful how  she  has  developed  of  late.  Some  day, 
when  she  is  his  wife,  he  may  hiive  reason  to  bless 
God  for  tlie  delay  that  ripened  her  soul." 

"  You  seem  to  be  quite  sure  of  the  end,  Esther." 

"Are  not  you?" 

*♦  Perhaps,  but  not  exactly  of  the  same  end.  I 
am  too  well  acquainted  with  African  fever." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  out  of  her  gentle 
eyes — 

'*Be^not  faithless,  but  believing,"  she  said. 

Meanwhile  Olive  had  hurried  home,  as  if  life  and 
death  depended  on  her  haste.  She  rushed  into  her 
motlier's  presence  in  a  way  that  suggested  the  giil 
that  used  to  be,  rather  than  the  one  of  a  few  yeai-s 
past. 

"Why,  this. is  my  old-time  Olive,"  said  Mi-s. 
Gardenell,  getting  up  to  meet  her,  for  she  saw 
something  had  gone  amiss. 

"  Mamma,  why  did  not  you,  why  did  not  somebody 
tell  me  that  Stanton  saved  your  life  ?  " 


r 


276 


nEllBERT  OABDENELL,  JR. 


' 


"  Because  he  requested  that  you  should  not 

know." 

**  Then  why  did  Aunt  Esther  tell  me  now  ?  I 
do  not  want  to  know  anything  he  does  not  wish 
I  should." 

"  Perhaps  Aunt  Esther  thinks,  as  I  do,  that  the 
day  for  such  precaution  is  past.  The  knowledge 
can  do  you  no  harm.  My  Olive  loves  Stanton  now, 
and  knows  she  does.  Then  she  was  still  uncertain 
of  her  heart— and  he  unwilling  that  anything 
should  even  seem  to  hinder  or  fetter  her  freest, 
fullest  choice.  I  think,  too,  he  shrank  from  your 
gratitude,  from  praise  or  reverence,  for  doing  what 
to  him  was  simplest,  plainest  duty,  not  to  say  priv- 
ilege. It  was  love  lie  gave,  and  love,  not  favor,' he 
sought.  He  would  not  allow  anything  to  occur 
that  might  possibly,  in  the  least  degree,  bias  your 
decision. 

"Oh,  mamma,  Uncle  Horace  is  right,  I  have 
been  wicked  as  well  as  cowai-dly  1  I  have  thought 
always  of  myself,  considered  my  own  feelings. 
How  can  I  ever  forgive  myself  ?  I  have  been  afraid 
to  write  the  truth,  shrank  from  giving  without  a 
further  asking  what  he  loved  me  too  well  even  to 
suggest,  since  it  brought  me  pain  before.  Mother 
if  we  ever  hear  from  him  again,  if  he  lives—"  voice 
faltering,  "I  will  force  my  hand  to  write  the  fact 
in  plainest,  straightest  form.  I  will  say  '  I  love 
you  Stanton,  above  all  the  world,  you  and  you 
only,  and  Africa  shared  with  you  will  be  paradise. 
Let  me  come  to  you." 


,,  JR. 

you  should  not 

all  me  now  ?    I 
le  does  not  wish 

as  I  do,  that  the 
The  knowledge 
ves  Stanton  now, 
ras  still  uncertain 
r  that  anything 
fetter  her  freest, 
ihrank  from  your 
e,  for  doing  what 
jT,  not  to  say  priv- 
>ve,  not  favor,*  he 
lything  to  occur 
degree,  bias  your 

is  right,  I  have 

I  have  thought 

ly  own   feelings. 

I  have  been  afraid 

giving  without  a 

too  well  even  to 

.  before.    Mother 

he  lives — "  voice 

to  write  the  fact 

will  say  '  I  love 

rid,  you  and  you 

I  will  be  paradise. 


A  REVKLATION. 


m 


It  wiis  while  Raymond  was  still  at  his  mother 
Cartwright's  that  he  received  a  paper  from  home 
addressed  in  Herbert's  hand,  but  containing  a  little 
poem  from  Olive's  pen.  It  described  a  scene  that 
took  place  in  the  parsonage  before  her  eyes  one 
day. 

His  daughter  being  out  of  the  room  at  the  time, 
her  father  deemed  it  safe  to  read  the  article  aloud 
to  Gatty  and  her  mother  and  Be  a,  the  only  occup- 
ants of  the  parlor.  It  was  entitled  "  Miss  Bunch," 
and  ran  thus : 

Little  Miss  Bunch  was  a  naughty  girl 

As  naughty  as  naughty  could  be, 
She  would  not  say  "  thank  you,"  not  she  indeed, 

For  a  wilful  bunch  was  she. 

'Twas  useless  to  reason,  persuade,  rebuke, 

And  mamma,  in  mild  despair, 
Drew  her  little  daughter  unto  her  kuee 

And  parted  her  tanglod  hair. 

"  I  shall  have  to  whip,"  said  the  saddest  voice. 
Miss  Bunch  crept  off  in  haste. 
Under  the  table  and  couch  and  chairs, 
As  after  her  mamma  chased. 

Over  the  floor— but  caught  at  last 

One,  two,  the  blows  fell  down 
From  a  gentle  hand  to  a  tiny  form 

Under  a  dainty  gown. 

A  look  of  anger,  reproach  and  grief. 
Well  mingled  with  grave  surprise, 
Swept  over  the  sweet,  indignant  face 
,     With  lU  soft  brown  asking  eyes. 


«>WPP" 


278  HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 

"  Why  don't  you  obey  mamma  and  say 

What  she  bids  ?"  Bunch  droopet'.  her  head  •. 

"  Why,  mamma,  It's  cause,"  with  shy  lifted  eye«, 
"  I  can't  find  my  talk,"  she  said. 

Little  Yensie  waa  not  far  off.  Before  the  fiiBt 
verse  was  ended  she  had  slipped  in  and  laid  her 
head  in  her  grandmother's  lap.  She  was  regard- 
ing her  father  out  of  grave  and  somewhat  troubled 
eyes  when  lie  ceased  reading. 

"  Why,  papa,"  she  said,  "  that  must  be  abautmy 
little  andel.  Aunt  OUie  says  I  has  one  jus'  zackly 
like  me  that  allers  aholds  the  face  of  my  Farver 
in  heaben.'' 

"  Bunch,"  asked  her  father  solemnly,  "  do  you 
think  your  little  angel  in  heaven  ever  scsmpei-s 
under  the  table  and  over  the  floor  to  escape  a 
whipping  she  deserves  ?  " 

Mrs.  Cartwright  found  it  hard  to  keep  from 
smiling  as  the  picture  Ray  had  drawn  flitted  across 
her  mind's  eye.  Her  son-in-law  was  a  constant , 
diversion.  But  baby  had  no  tliought  of  laughing. 
She  suddenly  hid  her  face  in  her  grandmother's  lap 
with  a  wail. 

"  Oh,  it's  me,  it's  me,  and  now  ebeiybody  knows 
I  was  naughty  1  I  shouldn't  fink  Aunt  Oilie'd  a 
telled  it,  Uncle  Hervit  never  would,"  with  a  gen- 
uine sob. 

"  You  are  not  the  only  Miss  Bunch  in  the  world," 
said  Grandma  Cartwright  soothingly.  "  Who  is 
to  know  which  one  she  means  ?  " 

"  That's  so,"  cried  Ben,  always  ready  to  come  to 


m». 


mmf 


X,  JR. 

'.  her  head  '. 
y  lifted  eyes, 


Before  the  fii'st 

d  in  and  laid  her 

She  was  legaid- 

)meWiiat  troubled 

must  be  absut  my 
is  one  jus'  'zackly 
ce  of  my   Farver 

)lemnly,  "  do  you 
jn  ever  scflmpei's 
Qoor  to  escape  a 


A  REVELATION. 


278 


the  front  where  baby  was  concerned.  "  And  then, 
too  Olive  knows  there  are  lots  of  people  in  the 
world  who  don't  understand  babies,  and  she  wants 
them  to  know  they're  not  always  naughty  when 
they  seem  to  be." 

Bunch  was  looking  up  hopefully  out  of  tearful 
eyes.  "  What  a  tumfort  you  is  getting  to  be  Benjy," 
she  said,  in  exact  imitation  of  her  father's  voice 
when  he  had  offered  her  the  same  consolation  not 
long  since.  "  I  guess  I'll  fordib  Aunt  OUie,  but  she 
must  neber,  neber  tell  anysing  'bout  me  again,  and 
you  will  burn  up  all  those  horrid  papers,  won't  you, 
Nunkie  Ben  ?  "  putting  her  chubby  arms  about  her 
devoted  follower's  neck. 


rd  to  keep  from 
•awn  flitted  across 
w  was  a  constant 
ught  of  laughing, 
grandmother's  lap 

ebeiybody  knows 
ik  Aunt  Oilie'd  a 
juld,"  with  a  gen- 

nch  in  the  world," 
ingly.      "  Who  is 

3  ready  to  come  to 


280 


BERBEBT  OABDENMLL,  JM, 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 

HOME   AGAIN. 

••  Ah  1  lend  me  your  Httile  ear,  lore  ! 
Hark  !  'Us  a  beautlfal  thing  ; 
TIio  weailest  month  «•(  the  year,  love, 

Is  8hort«st  ftud  nearest  the  spring." 

— Mbs.  Whi'MBT. 

"  If  he  lives.*' 

Olive's  lips  had  faltered  what  Herbert's  heart 
had  long  said.  It  had  been  months  now  since 
the  last  woi'd  received  from  his  friend,  and  then 
it  had  been  scarcely  more  than  a  word. 

"  The  fever  is  raging  in  our  midst,"  he  wrote. 
"  I  am  tending  the  sick  constantly  and  have  little 
time  for  anything  else.  One  of  mv  best  helpers  is 
dead— a  bright  young  fellow  who  loved  the  gospel 
story  ;  most  fitted  for  service,  therefore  most  fitted 
for  glory.  I  do  not  murmur  only  wonder  a  little, 
but  He  knows." 

This  with  a  message  of  love  to  the  dear  ones 
and  a  short  postscript,  ^ 

»  You'll  have  to  forgive  me,  Herv,  but  I  don*t 
feel  up  to  writing.  I  am  languid  and  uncertain  of 
myself,  hardly  able  to  think  connectedly.  It  may 
be  the  fever  creeping  on.    If  not,  I'll  write  again 


soon.    Pray  for  your  other  half— 


Stanton. 


tui 


iiniTj>l^w<i<ii^nft»i'iMai 


LX,  JR. 


EOMS  AGAIN. 


281 


IIL 


wr,  love  I 
Mng; 
B  ye»r,  lore, 
the  spring." 
— Mbs.  WHi'raJBf. 

kt  Herbert's  heart 
(nonths  now  since 
)  friend,  and  then 
t  word. 

midst,"  he  wrote, 
itly  and  have  little 

my  best  helpers  is 
10  loved  the  gospel 
lerefore  most  fitted 
Uy  wonder  a  little, 

I  to  the  dear  ones 


,  Herv,  but  I  don't 
lid  and  uncertain  of 
nnectedly.  It  may 
lot,  I'll  write  again 

i— 

Stanton. 


Somehow  that  postscript  roused  deepest  solici* 
tiule  in  the  heart  of  the  reader. 

He  did  not  pass  tite  letter  to  Olive  as  he  gener- 
ally did,  but  read  its  contents  aloud,  all  except 
tlinse  closing  lines.  Why  should  she  be  troubled 
with  the  fears  filling  his  own  bosom  ?  He  would 
spare  her  while  he  could. 

But  his  sister  soon  discovered  his  uneasiness  ;  it 
communicated  itself  to  her  unspoken.  When  two 
months  passed  with  never  a  word,  the  quiet  an- 
guish of  her  face  was  more  than  he  could  bear^ 
and  when  she  said,  "  You  ai-e  keeping  something 
from  me.  What  was  there  in  Stanton's  letter 
that  I  did  not  hear  ?  "  he  put  it  in  her  hand. 

'■'■  He  is  dead,"  she  moaned,  "  dead,  and  I  let 
liim  die  alone.  My  punishment  is  greater  than  I 
can  bear." 

Her  brother  tried  to  reassure  her,  to  find  reasons 
for  hope  and  coumge,  but  truth  to  tell  he  was 
heavy-hearted  himself.  Mid.  Gardenell  was  their 
comforter. 

"He  is  too  busy  to  write,  with  the  cai'e  of  the 
sick  and  his  other  work.  If  he  was  smitten  we 
should  hear,  some  one  would  send  us  word  ;  there 
is  hope  in  this  silence." 

They  moved  to  Bloomingle  early.  Olive  so 
drooped  they  trusted  the  sweet  life  and  beauty  of 
nature's  springtide  would  quicken  the  current 
of  her  blood,  give  elasticity  again  to  her  step  and 
color  to  her  cheek. 

The  spring  1    Yes,  she  loved  it.    But  never  be- 


fSffi 


mifjf.^    <<pw" 


T^ 


l«M 


1  s 


282 


IIEUBKUT  OARDKNKLL,  JU. 


fore  had  it  seemed  so  suggestive  of  Stnntop.  Hivd 
he  not  passed  his  last  spring  in  the  Home  land 
with  her?  Bloomingle  1  dear  old  Bloomingle  I 
Had  they  not  together  and  alone  that  fateful  May- 
day drank  In  of  its  loveliness?  The  apple-tree, 
the  robins,  the  big  dining-i-oom,  the  whole  house 
seemed  ever  voiceful  of  Stanton — Stanton,  and 
that  afternoon  when  she  read  in  his  face  the  pain 
she  had  brought  his  lioart.  One  sentence  of  that 
letter  was  ever  in  her  memory.  "Most  fitted  for 
service,  therefore  mosi  fitted  for  glory."  Were  the 
words  true  ?  and  to  whom  more  applicable  than  to 
Stanton's  self?  Her  shuddering  heart  fainted  be- 
fore tiie  suggestion. 

Yet  the  solitude,  the  quiet  were  just  what  she 
needed,  and  they  helped  her.  She  was  weary  of 
the  ceaseless  round  cf  work,  of  visiting ;  she  felt  as 
if  unable  to  longer  force  herself  to  do  anything. 
Just  to  be  alone  -  nd  still  with  mamma  and  Herbert, 
who  understood  her  sorrow  and  weariness,  was  all 
she  asked  or  wanted. 

To  Herbert  especially  she  clung  with  the  tenac- 
ity of  despair.  He  knew  her  heartache,  had  he 
not  felt  it  himself  ?  lost  his  dearest  ?  And  she  had 
jied  to  make  him  forget.  How  could  she  ?  He 
was  unlike  her,  he  had  never  misunderstood,  or 
disappointed  Stanton  as  she  had,  but  had  always 
loved  him  as  he  deserved.  She  dreaded  his  goings 
to  the  city,  and  waited  feverishly  for  his  return, 
and  leaned  on  him  constantly  in  a  way  that 
brought  all  his  devotion  to  the  front  and  made 


JfLL, .//{. 


UOME  AGAIN. 


288 


e  of  Stan  top.  Hivd 
in  the  Home  Innd 
ir  old  Bloomiiiglo  I 
lie  that  fateful  Muy- 
s?  The  apple-tree, 
n,  the  whole  house 
ritou — Stanton,  and 
in  his  face  the  pain 
tie  sentence  of  that 
.  "Most  fitted  for 
r  glory."  Were  the 
e  applicable  than  to 
iig  heart  fainted  be- 

were  just  what  she 
She  was  weary  of 
visiting ;  she  felt  as 
elf  to  do  anything, 
namma  and  Herbert, 
d  weariness,  was  all 

lung  with  the  tenac- 
r  heartache,  had  he 
trest  ?  And  she  had 
ow  could  she?  He 
r  misunderstood,  or 
lad,  but  had  always 
le  dreaded  his  goings 
ishly  for  his  return, 
tly  in  a  way  that 
the  front  and  made 


his  courage  rise  to  meet  her  necessity.  He  must 
not  despair  since  Olive  must  hope,  and  he  must 
inspire  that  hope. 

Early  summer  camo.  It  was  impossible  to  live 
in  the  midst  of  nature's  sweet  wooings,  hor  proph- 
ecies of  love  and  joy,  atu'  not  take  on  something 
of  their  cheer.  In  spite  of  dark  days,  houi-s  of 
agony  and  fear,  the  maiden's  heart  dared  think  of 
someth  g  beside  evil.  Color  came  btick  to  cheek 
and  lip,  her  step  no  longer  lagged  drearily,  her 
eyes  looked  up  and  saw  God. 

She  ojiened  her  Bible  one  day  to  Rom.  15 :  18, 
"  Now  the  God  of  Hope — "  She  stopped  amazed. 
She  had  never  thought  of  Him  in  that  way  before : 
"  The  God  of  Hope."  It  was  right  then  to  hope — 
like  God,  wrong  not  to  hope.  She  read  on — "  fill 
you  with  all  joy  and  peace  in  believing,  that  ye 
may  abound  in  hope  through  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost."  She  took  great  breaths  over  that 
Scripture.  So  God  Himself  willed  she  should  hope. 
Nay,  He  was  to  JUl  her  with  joy,  and  peace — her 
hope  was  to  abound. 

She  took  her  Bible  to  her  mother's  room  where 
Herl)ert  sat  talking.  "  I  have  found  something," 
she  cried,  "  something  so  beautiful  and  strange." 
Her  eyes  were  shining,  her  cheeks  flushed,  joy 
overspread  her  countenance.  •*  God  wants  me  to 
hope.  Not  you  and  Herbert,  mamma,  but  God. 
He  says  so,"  and  she  read  her  verse.  Then  mamma 
smiled  at  Herbert,  and  Herbert  smiled  back  at 
mamma.     Healing  had  begun. 


'■-*%.. 


284 


UKURKRT  OARDSNELL,  JR. 


II'' 


Olivo  alwftyn  jwked  tlie  Hamo  question  at  first 
sight  of  her  brother  after  h'lH  vittits  \o  the  city. 

"Any  news?" 

His  answer  was  ever  the  same.  But  Bomehow, 
from  the  day  she  found  that  verse,  she  exj)ectt'(l 
some  different  reply,  and  following  every  shower 
of  disappointment  was  the  speedy  outbreaking  of 
the  sun.    So  the  weeks  went  by. 

It  had  been  a  beautiful  day,  one  of  the  sweet 
breezeful  days  of  early  summer  when  tne  spring 
is  yet  in  her  breath,  and  its  freedom  in  her  step. 
Herbert  had  missed  all  it«  delights,  to  his  sister's 
sorrow,  for  New  York  demanded  his  presence. 

Twilight  was  coming  on,  almost  time  for  his  re- 
turn. Mamma  awaited  him  In  the  parlor  as  usual, 
resting  on  the  couch  opposite  the  window-door 
which  opened  wide  to  the  radiance  of  the  westevn 
sky.  Her  beautiful  face  had  affinity  to  the  glory 
toward  which  it  turned.  Sunset  to  her  was  but 
the  opening  of  the  pearly  gates,  it  brought  her 
heavenly  visitants.  The  glow  ujwn  her  counte- 
nance seemed  not  so  much  the  reflection  of  what 
she  saw  as  the  outbeaming  of  what  she  was ;  as  if 
the  gold  and  crimson  within  recognizing  the  crim- 
son and  gold  without  shone  forth  to  greet  it 
through  the  translucent  windows  of  her  flesh. 
/  Her  daughter  catching  a  glimpse  of  her  thus,  as 
she  passed,  felt  the  rush  of  sudden  tears.  Tears 
of  neither  joy  nor  sorrow,  but  the  mingling  of  both. 
Teai-s  such  as  the  realization  of  spiritual  verities 
always  bring  to  sensitive  souls,  a  divine  agony,  a 


>4il  J 


tL=^ 


'f 


i>iiw>iMii«ii«ii)liiii>ii<iNiMiii<iii««iiiiWiitoiiiii«iiiiiihiiiiiri««iiiniiiti-t'  rV'^^^^^ 


KLL,  JR. 

«o  question  at  first 
sitti  U)  the  city. 

ne.  But  Romehow, 
rente,  she  ex|)ectt'(l 
wing  every  shower 
edy  outbreaking  of 

y- 

S  one  of  the  sweet 
er  when  tne  spring 
■eedom  in  her  step, 
ights,  to  his  sister's 
d  his  presence, 
lost  time  for  his  re- 
the  parlor  a»  usual, 

the  window-door 
nnce  of  the  westevn 
affinity  to  the  glory 
set  to  her  was  but 
tes,  it  brought  her 

U])on  her  counte- 
)  reflection  of  what 
what  she  was ;  as  if 
(Cognizing  the  crim- 

forth  to  greet  it 
lOws  of  her  flesh, 
mpse  of  her  thus,  as 
]dden  tears.  Tears 
le  mingling  of  both, 
of  spiritual  verities 
},  a  divine  agony,  a 


f«ui>4«wRiNibiiiMBiiirtiMMkii 


HOME  AGAIN. 


286 


sublime  pain,  a  joy  which  lu  its  passage  hurts  the 
ilesh,  because  as  yet  it  is  too  weak  to  tmnsiqit, 
without  suffering,  the  electric  currents  of  heaven. 

Olive  did  not  disturb  her.  She  had  an  almost 
awe  of  her  mother  at  times,  so  near  seemed  she  to 
the  better  land.  Surely  if  Stanton  were  there  her 
mother  would  know  it — so  well  was  she  acquainted 
with  its  inhabitants. 

The  maiden  went  to  her  own  room  and  knelt 
to  pray.  She  always  prayed  these  days  before  go- 
ing forth  to  meet  her  brother  and  ask  the  question 
she  dreaded  and  yet  longed  to  hear  answered.  God 
was  most  real  to  Olive.  She  could  not  have  lived 
and  borne  without  Him,  and  prayer  was  no  longer 
duty  but  delight. 

"'  So  on  I  go  not  knowing,* " 

She  sang  softly  as  she  arose, 

" '  I  would  not  If  I  might'  " 

She  hesitated  and  pondered,  as  she  went  quietly 

down  the  hall,  whether  she  could  say  that  from 

her  heart — 

<' '  I  would  not  If  I  might.' " 

Did  she  not  long  to  know  ? 

She  halted  before  the  rairror  to  take  her  hat 
from  the  peg,  and  caught  the  reflection  of  her  own 
face.  A  sort  of  astonishment  took  hold  of  lier  that 
she  was  still  young  and  fair,  and  she  stood  a  mo* 
ment  curiously  regarding  herself. 


286 


HERBERT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


"  I  wonder  I  am  not  old  and  withered,"  s'je  said, 
"  the  years  seem  so  long."  And  the::  sighing 
gently  she  took  her  hat  and  opened  the  door  and 
went  down  the  gravelled  path. 

She  stopped,  amid  the  flowers  to  pluck  a  few 
roses — she  had  plenty  of  time.  The  breath  of  mign- 
onette came  to  her  nostrils.  She  stooped  and 
gathered  it  with  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  whispered, 
"  He  always  loved  it  so  much."  Then  she  fastened 
it  to  her  bodice  and  walked  on. 

Was  she  early  or  was  Herbert  late  ?  It  seemed 
a  long  time  she  waited  in  the  gloaming,  just  where 
she  could  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  liis  form  as  he 
turned  into  the  road.  The  western  sky  was  dull- 
ing,  its  purple  and  crimson  splendor  fading  into 
gray,  only  a  few  bright  clouds  still  remained.  She 
counted  a  few  stars  beginning  to  peep  out. 

And  then — then,  why,  yes,  it  was  Herbert's  form 
that  appeai-ed,  but  there  was  some  one  with  him. 
She  had  started  from  her  rock-seat  to  run  and 
meet  him,  but  stood  transfixed  with  head  thrown 
forward,  eyes  dilated  and  heart  beating  tumult- 
uously. 

There  was  an  agony  of  hope,  and  fear  and  ques- 
tioning in  her  bosom.  Was  it? — could  it  be  ? — or 
was  she  grown  suddenly  mad  ?  Oh  how  weak,  al- 
most feeble  was  the  advancing  step !  with  one  wild 
dash  she  was  down  the  road  and  had  flung  herself 
on  the  stranger's  breast. 

"  Oh  Stanton,  Stanton  1 "  she  sobbed. 

And  then  a  voice,  that  voice  for  whose  sound 


*immmmm 


ELL,  JR. 

withered,"  »he  said, 

And  the::  sighing 

pened  the  door  and 

era  to  pluck  a  few 
The  breath  of  mign- 

She  stooped  and 
BS  as  she  whispered. 

Then  she  fastened 

rt  late  ?  It  seemed 
loaming,  just  where 
ie  of  liis  form  as  he 
stem  sky  was  duU- 
plendor  fading  into 
itill  remained.  She 
to  peep  out. 
was  Herbert's  form 
omeone  with  him. 
ck-seat  to  run  and 
[  with  head  thrown 
rt  beating  tumult- 

,  and  fear  and  ques- 
? — could  it  be  ? — or 
'  Oh  how  weak,  al- 
step  I  with  one  wild 
id  had  flung  heraelf 

e  sobbed. 

ce  for  whose  sound 


HOME  AGAIN. 


287 


she  had  longed  and  prayed  beyond  all  utterance, 
the  voice  so  loved,  said  wickedly, 

"  It's  only  for  your  sake,  Herv,  you  know." 

She  did  not  resent  it,  there  was  room  for  nothing 
but  joy  in  her  1,  j-t.  She  pulled  down  the  dear 
fiice  and  kissed  the  naughty  lips,  and  he  dropped 
to  the  grass  on  the  wayside  and  drew  her  to  his 
lap,  saying  roguishly, 

"  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you,  Olive." 

"  As  many  as  you  please,"  she  cried,  "  only  let 
me  ask  mine  first.  Will  you,  can  you  forgive  me, 
Stanton,  for  not  reading  my  own  heart  better,  and 
not  appreciating  yours?" 

His  arms  tightened  about  her  form,  but  he  said, 
"  I  am  going  back  to  Africa,  Princess." 

''I  am  going  with  you,"  she  answered.  "  Now 
that  I  have  you  again  be  sure  I  shall  never  let  you 
go  anywhere,  at  any  time,  without  me." 

"Not  even  to  see  little  mother?"  he  questioned 
with  proper  resignation. 

"Not  even  to  see  little  mother,"  she  replied. 
"  I  have  written  to  her  every  month  since  you  left 
and  visited  her  besides,  and  we  quite  understand 
each  other.    When  she  sees  you  she  expects  to  see 


me. 


"  So  I  am  the  victim  of  a  conspiracy,"  he  laughed. 
"  Oh  Ollie,  how  impossible  it  seems  that  I  sit  here 
beside  you  I  How  good  God  is  !  Three  months 
ago  I  was  lying  on  the  borders  of  the  grave." 

She  dropped  her  head  on  his  bosom,  and  wept 
freely.    "  If  you  had  died,  I  would  have  wanted 


-i 
•ft' 


V 

i^ 
M 


I 

■-V 

■J. 

■i' 


2gg  HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 

to  die  too,"  she  said.    "  But  Herbert  made  me 
hope  ;  Herbert  and  mamma  and  God." 

She  did  not  move  from  the  arms  that  held  her, 
but  she  stretched  out  both  of  hers  to  her  brother. 
He  dropped  on  his  knees  beside  her,  his  eyes  drip- 
ping with  glad  tears.    She  slipped  her  hands  about 

his  neck. 

"  I  love  you  just  the  same,"  she  said, "  always  the 
same,  but  I  belong  to  Stanton.  You  do  not  feel 
bad,  do  you,  dear?" 

What  a  child  she  would  always  be  I  He  kissed 
her  lips  and  eyes.  "  You  precious  sister,"  he  re- 
plied, "  I  am  almost  too  glad  to  speak  ;"  and  he 
took  the  hands  froi  around  his  neck  and  put  them 
about  his  friends.  "  Ollie,"  he  whispered,  "  to  see 
you  thus  is  the  deepest  joy  of  my  heart,  and  for  it 
I  thank  God  fervently." 

Stanton  improved  rapidly  at  Bloomingle.  He 
would  have  been  very  ungrateful  if  he  had  not 
when  so  many  were  devoted  to  his  well-being.  He 
had  suffered  from  African  fever  of  a  very  malig- 
nant type,  and,  as  he  had  told  Olive,  been  very 
near  to  death.  Only  the  tireless  efforts  of  his 
Christian  boys  had  saved  his  life,  and  when  they, 
and  the  missionary  from  the  next  station,  bade  him 
"good-bye,"  on  ship-board,  they  feared  it  was  for- 
ever, and  that  he  would  fill  an  ocean  grave. 

Not  so.  God  had  more  work  on  earth  for  him 
to  do,  and  prayers  offered  in  America  are  heard, 
and  answered,  in  Africa.  He  reached  New  York 
in  a  condition  that  would  have  surprised  his  fellow- 


■MOT 


:ll,  jr. 

Herbert  made  me 

God." 

irms  that  held  her, 
liers  to  her  brother. 

her,  his  eyes  drip- 
)ed  her  hands  about 

tie  said,  "always the 
You  do  not  feel 


He  kissed 


BOMS  AGAIN. 


289 


"  he 


re- 


lys  be  I 

ious  sister,' 

to  speak ; "  and  he 
neck  and  put  them 
whispered,  "  to  see 

my  heart,  and  for  it 

,t  Bloomingle.      He 
teful  if  he  had  not 
» his  well-being.     He 
iver  of  a  very  malig- 
}ld  Olive,  been  very 
reless  efforts  of  his 
life,  and  when  they, 
9Xt  station,  bade  him 
ey  feared  it  was  for- 
1  ocean  grave, 
►rk  on  earth  for  him 
I  America  are  heard, 
5  reached  New  York 
J  surprised  his  fellow- 


workers,  yet  far  from  his  normal  health  and 
strength.  Herbert,  ever  on  the  lookout  for  news 
from  his  friend,  was  at  last  rewarded  by  the  s.ght 
of  his  face,  and  of  course  headed  him  immediately 
for  Bloomingle.  They  liad  taken  a  carriage  from 
the  station,  until  they  i-eached  the  piece  of  road 
where  Olive  usually  awaited  her  brother.  Then 
Stanton  insisted  on  alighting  and  walking  to  meet 
her. 

Mrs.  Gardenell  constituted  hei-self  his  nui-se, 
Herbert  was  his  faithful  companion  and  helper, 
and  Olive  hovered  continually  over  them  all.  It 
was  amazing  with  what  rapidity  the  young  man 
gained  strength,  under  such  love  and  cai-e.  In 
several  weeks  he  was  able  to  go  on  to  Maine  where 
his  mother  and  brothers  anxiously  waited  his 
ai)i)earing. 

But  he  did  not  go  alone.  Olive  had  her  own 
way,  and  since  her  way  was  so  delightfully  his  own, 
Stanton  saw  no  i-eason  to  demur.  Olive's  twenty- 
fifth  birthday  became  her  wedding-day  as  well. 

It  was  a  veiy  quiet  affair,  out  under  the  apple- 
tree  with  the  robins  twittering  overhead.  Of 
coui-se  Herbert  officiated  and  Raymond  gave  away 
the  bride.  Mr.  and  Mra  Campbell,  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Germaine,  Harry  and  Eddie,  with  Lee  and  Grace 
and  Ruth  and  a  few  old  friends  made  up  the  wed- 
ding party. 

"  May  I  for  Herbert's  sake  ?  "  Whispered  the 
young  husband  as  he  stooped  to  kiss  his  bride. 

"  I  would  like  to  say  yes  if  I  could  truthfully," 


'v,. 


,5|tf 


290  HERBSnT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 

answered  Olive.    -  You  so  like  to  take  advantage 
TZZcmse  I  have  learned  my  lesson  so  hardly 

"^SavTt'ther,"  he  answered,  "  beca.«e  it  is  so 
delight'^ul  to  know  that  at  last  I  am  loved  for  my 
own  sake  and  not  for  the  sake  of  another. 

-Olive  Gardenell  Cartwnght.'     Lee  was  the 
fi«f  in  sneak  her  new  name  as  she  held  her  in  a 

had  onlv  at!  hour  to  spare. 

'    ..rL    so    l.»PPy    in    yoar   h.pp.»W  ^^^ 
«hi8Mred.    "It  is  such  an  ««suii...oe  tmt  God 
rov^Iorand  wooia  «.*«■  give  ».  *at  than  any 
tViinff  else  when  we  can  bear  it. 
"":S,.n,"  said  M«.  GardeneU  that  n,,l.^  - 
Olive  and  Stanton  sat  one  on  either  s.de  of  her  h 
^:  o7  each  in  hers,  "  ehild^n,  •  •--  ^'^-«^ 
all  day  ot  the  marriage  of  Oana  of  «"'''^-  "™ 
Jesus  ™  there.    Ho  »»s  here  t->.y,  and  nhu* 
father  may  be  as  glad  to-night  as  we  are.     owntoi . 
my  1  m'y  beloved  son.  do  you  .mlize  what  h,^. 
Zor  is  given  you  when  a  mother  so  fearlessly,  so 
!;:r.^?dly.  y-.  gladly,  puts  her  child  .n  you. 
keeping,  and  Oianks  God  she  may  t 


L,JR. 


A  BTRANOE  JtEUITAL. 


291 


1  take  advantage 
lesson  80  hardly 

because  it  in  so 

am  loved  for  my 

another." 

."     Lee  was  the 

she  held  her  in  a 

to  the  city,  for  she 

happiness,"  she 
sui-ance  that  God 
us  that  than  any- 

nell  that  ni^ht,  as 
either  side  of  her  a 
Bn,  I  have  thought 
[la  of  Galilee,  and 
to-day,  and  I  think 
a  we  are.     ouinton, 
a  realize  what  high 
.her  so  fearlessly,  so 
3  her  child  in  your 
nay?" 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

A    STRANGE     RECITAL. 

••  We  shape  ourselves  the  joy  or  fear 
Of  which  the  coining  life  is  made, 
And  fill  our  future's  atmosphere 
With  sunshine  or  with  shade. 

"  The  tissue  of  the  life  to  be 

We  weave  with  colors  all  our  own 

And  in  the  field  of  destiny 

We  reap  as  we  have  sown." 

— Whittikr. 

There  was  another  outgoing  mission-ship  and 
Stanton  and  Olive  were  both  there.  But  this 
time  they  were  not  divided,  one  on  the  pier  and 
one  on  the  deck.  Both  stood  together  on  the 
steamer  now,  and  beside  his  sister  stood  Harry 
Gardenell. 

There  had  been  many  tender  farewells  and  last 

words. 

"  Remember,"  Yensie  whispered,  as  she  held  her 
only  daughter  to  her  heart  for  perhaps  the  last  time 
on  earth,  "  remember,  darling,  you  can  never  be 
far  from  me  while  you  aie  close  to  God."  Then 
she  turned  to  clasp  Harry,  one  of  her  "  little  boys," 
as  she  still  loved  to  call  these  stalwart  men — the 
younger  membera  of  her  family. 


.V:-  si"^*5rr'"*<ii'3^"'  •" "  ^iieSr^-s.Sx-iE 


1  '  ■t'Kift*:^!*^'-;' 


nERBMBT  OABDMNELL,  Jit. 
"  You  are  making  great  sacrifices,  Yensie, 


'  said 


Dr.  Germaine,  his  own  eyes  fixed  on  the  spoi  where 
Hany  Gardenell  was  bidding  a  good-bye  to  hu 
daughter  Ruth. 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  able,"  wiw  the  reply.  "  Noth- 
ing  so  rejoices  me  as  the  privilege  of  giving  back 
to  God's  service  those  He  has  so  kindly  given  to 

my  love."  .  . 

"  All  mothers  cannot  measure  up  to  such  privi- 
lege," said  the  gentleman. 

"  I  know  one  who  can,"  she  replied,  her  eyes 
overflowing  as  Esther  held  in  a  farewell  embrace 
this  mother's  boy  whom  she  hoped  some  day  to 

call  her  son. 

»  E  'ery  soul  I  gather  to  the  fold  will  add  another 
star  to  your  crown,"  said  Robert  Langmere  heartily, 
as  he  gav  his  hand  in  warmest  clasp  to  his  young 
pastor,  lor  two  of  Herbert's  baivd  sailed  with 
this  party  to  Africa.  ^  _ 

On  the  pier  Yensie  and  her  three  remaining 
sons,  Mi-8.  Cartwright,  Gatty,  Lee,  and  a  hundred 
others,  waved  the  departing  ones  out  of  sight  with 
hymns  and  prayew  and  teara.  And  as  they 
drifted  out  from  the  shore  the  group  on  the 
steamer's  deck  chwped  hands  and  sang  that  sacred 
old  Salvation  Army  melody,  "  Where  He  leads  me 

I  will  follow." 

And  He  was  leading  one  to  an  African  grave 

and  they  knew  it  not. 

"  It  seems  strange,  mamma,"  wrote  Harry  Gar- 
denell six  months  after,  himself  just  i-aised  from 


JU. 


A  STBANOE  BMCITAL. 


2M 


es,  Yensie,"  aaid 
n  the  spoi  where 
good-bye  to  liij 

)  reply.    "  Noth- 

e  of  giving  hack 

kindly  given  to 

up  to  8uch  privi- 

replied,  her  eyes 
fai-ewell  embrace 
)e(l  some  day  to 

d  will  add  another 
langmere  heartily, 
slasp  to  his  young 
band   sailed  with 

•  three  remaining 
ee,  and  a  hundred 
}  out  of  sight  with 
J.  And  as  they 
le  group  on  the 
d  sang  that  sacred 
^here  He  leads  me 

an  African  grave 

'  wrote  Hjwry  Gar- 
f  just  raised  from 


the  verge  of  death,  "  that  he  should  be  taken  and 
I  left,  who  am  of  so  much  less  value.  He  was  so 
strong  and  bright  and  gifted,  we  had  such  large 
hopes  for  his  futui-e.  Stantou  wept  like  a  child 
above  his  grave." 

Kol)ert  Langmere  had  won  his  crown.  And  an 
uld  couple  in  an  outof-the  way  farmhouse  in  Ohio 
mingled  their  tears  and  praises  that  God  had 
counted  them  worthy  to  give  a  son  for  the  redei  >• 
tion  of  the  world. 

"  One  soweth  and  another  reapeth."  The  reap- 
ing may  be  long  from  shortest  sowing,  such  a 
difference  is  there  in  seed,  in  crops.  One  soweth 
— yea,  one  is  town  that  nnof^her  may  reap,  and  Ho 
who  has  declarad,  "  If  it  die  it  bringeth  forth 
much  fruit,"  will  apportion  each  one  his  share  iu 
the  harvest. 

'"'■  Mamma,"  said  Raymond,  gathering  his  mother 
to  his  arms  as  ^he  last  glimpse  of  the  ship  faded 
from  view  "  mamma,  yours  is  a  big  pai't  towards 
the  world's  redemption." 

"  I  would  not  wish  it  less,"  she  answered  huskily. 
^'  Did  I  not  bear  you  uU  for  this,  Ray,  tliat 
to  the  uttermost  you  should  do  the  uttermost  that 
in  you  lay  for  God  and  His  kingdom,  and  in  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  if  so  He  willed." 

The  company  lingered  awhile  sadly  as  if  loath 
to  leave  the  spot  where  they  had  said  faiewelL 
Then  they  separated  into  little  groups  and  disap- 
peared, Mra.  Gardenell  and  Mrs.  Cartwright  with 
Ray  and  bis  wife  and  baby  turning  towards  homey 


^. 


294 


*m 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


Herbert  and  Lee  in  another  direction.  Lee,  w>th  a 
Bort  of  glory  on  her  lifted,  tear^tained  fa^e  that 
suggested  David's  psalms  to  her  escort,  fio  weakly 
human  was  it,  so  sweetly  divine. 

"  He  goes  out  not  doubled  but  quadrupled,"  she 
said,  "  and  you  are  his  partner  in  the  spoils."  She 
was  speaking  of  Stanton.  "  Mr.  Gardenell,  your 
brother  is  so  like  you  it  was  hard  to  believe  it  was 
not  you  sailing  awiiy  towards  Africa." 

Something  within  the  listener  thrilled  and 
mirrored  itself  on  his  face.  "  You  would  like  to 
go  ?  "  she  said. 

«  I  would  like  God's  will  done  perfectly  and 
fully  and  no;/hing  else,"  he  m-.de  answer.  "  In 
my  body  and  my  spirit,  my  labor  and  place  of 
labor,  I  have  no  slightest  choice."  And  she  was 
Bure  he  spoke  the  truth. 

*'  And  you  never  have  a  thought  otherwise  ?  " 
she  said  wistfully,  reverently. 

He  smiled.  He  would  like  to  free  her  from  this 
reverence  for  himself  as  something  superior. 

"  I  am  only  a  man,"  he  replied.  "  and  much  like 
other  men.  I  am  human.  I  do  not  wiih  anything 
but  God's  will ;  I  soraetimies  think  it,  however.  My 
flesh  sometimes  rises  to  greet  some  other  sugges- 
tion. But  my  heart  and  will  remain  unswervingly 
His,  and  that  brings  every  thought  into  subjection 
sooner  or  later." 

Gatty  went  back  with  her  mother  and  baby  to 
the  farm  and  the  boys.  Ray  accompanied  them  as 
as  far  as  Boston,  where  he  had  an  engagement  to 


i 
11 


A  HTIUyOK  HKCITAL. 


m6 


[)n.  Lee,  with  a 
toined  far^e  that 
Hcoi't,  HO  weakly 

[uadrupled,"  she 

he  spoilH."     She 

Gardenell,  your 

to  believe  it  was 

ca." 

er   thrilled   and 

)u  would  like  to 

le  perfectly  and 
e  answer.  "  In 
or  and  place  of 
And  she  was 

jht  otherwise? 

Tee  her  from  this 
g  superior. 
"  and  much  like 
ot  wi»h  anything 
it,  however.  My 
ne  other  sugges- 
ain  unswervingly 
it  into  subjection 

ther  and  baby  to 
inpanied  them  as 
in  engagement  to 


meet.  Mrs.  Gai-denell,  Herbert,  and  Eddie  were 
left  in  the  big  house.  You  know  how  lonely  it 
seemed. 

Hard  work  was  Herl)ert'8  panacea  for  most  evils. 
Ho  tiirew  hinis'jlf  into  the  prayei^meeting  and 
pulpit  with  redoubled  energy,  praying  for  revival. 
He  took  up  a  special  course  of  readuig  with  Eddie, 
and  Mrs.  Gardenell,  unwilling  to  be  left  out,  joined 
tnem.  The  winter  was  well  advanced  when  one 
day  at  evenfall,  as  Herbert  was  about  to  stoj)  into 
an  uptown  car,  he  heard  his  name  spoken  by  a 
familiar  voice.     He  turned  to  see  Lee  Erdloy. 

"  Mr.  Gardenell,"  she  began,  and  something  in 
her  manner,  quiet  as  it  was,  suggested  excitement. 
"  Mr.  Gardenell,  I  need  a  friend  to-night.  I 
believe  you  are  such,  and  I  can  trust  you." 

"  I  believe  you  can,"  answered  the  gentleman, 
his  pulses  leaping  in  a  most  unministerial  manner  in 
spite  of  his  controlled  voice.  "  How  can  I  serve 
you?  " 

'  My  mother  is  worse,  I  fear  she  is  dying,"  a 
little  tramor  in  the  sweet  voice. 

Herbert  waited  for  nothing  further  but  turned 
toward  her  home.  "  I  will  go  to  her  at  once,"  he 
said. 

"  She  is  all  I  have  on  earth,"  continued  the  sad 
young  voice.  "Yet  I  would  not  dare  say  I  am 
sorry  if  she  were  only  ready  to  go.  I  have  tried 
to  lead  her  to  Christ,  and  I  have  failed.  I  have 
tried  to  bring  her  comfort,  and  in  vain.  She  has 
had  a  sad,  sad  life,  how  sad,  I  have  never  dared 


296 


llKltUMHr  Vi  ilDKHKLL,  JR. 


to  hint  to  any  one.  But  you  ought  to  know  now, 
for  ah«  needs  you.  She  leeU  nhe  niunt  mu  nome 
dorgyraan  —lighten  her  heari  of  iU  load  before 
she  can  die  in  {waoe." 

The  youiig  lady  loused,  evidently  to  gather  Hell- 
control. 

•'  I  would  rather  you  should  know  our  sorrow 
than  anybody  else,"  she  went  on,  "  if  I  must  choose 
a  thing  in  any  form  so  humiliating.  I  did 
not  know  I  was  so  proud  until  now.  Besides 
mother  knows  only  you  among  all  the  pastors  of 
the  city,  and  would  prefer  you  if  you  can  spwe 
time  for  such  a  recital." 

"  Sjmre  time  I  that  is  what  time  is  for,  and  who 
else  siiould  share  your  sorrow  if  not  I,  Lee  ?  Are 
you  not  Olive's  friend— and — mine  ?  Say  to  me 
all  you  please,  tell  me  the  woi-st.  You  must  have 
no  pride  where  1  am  concerned.  The  farther  you 
take  me  into  your  confidence  the  letter  I  shall 
like  it,  the  more  you  open  your  heart  to  me  the 
greater  will  be  my  gitititudo." 

»♦  You  are  kind,"  she  said  sadly,  "  but  you  do 
not  know  yet,  you  have  not  heard  all,"  and  in 
spite  of  her  wonderful  exercise  of  will,  her  voice 
trembled. 

What  a  ghastly  object  I  Herbert  Gardenell  felt 
himself  almost  shrink  at  first  sight  of  the  loath- 
some spectacle.  So  shrivelled,  so  sunken,  so 
withered.  The  mere  skeleton  of  a  woman  was 
this,  hardly  half  the  size  and  weipht  she  had  been 
when  last  he  saw  her.    Her  eyes  seemed  to  have 


,,JR. 


A  STUASaX  RMVITAL. 


9tf 


it  tn  know  now, 
niuMt  MO  Nome 
itM  load  bafore 

y  to  gather  Mclf- 

cnow  our  Morrow 
if  I  must  chooee 
Hating.  1  did 
now.  Betideii 
11  the  paaton  of 
f  you  can  spare 

I  is  for,  and  who 

lot  I,  Lee  ?    Are 

lie?    Say  to  me 

You  muat  have 

The  further  you 

le  lietter  I  Hhall 

heart  to  me  the 

lly,  "but  you  do 
ard  all,"  and  in 
)f  will,  her  voice 

srt  Oardenell  felt 
light  of  the  loath- 
,  BO  sunken,  so 
)f  a  woman  was 
ifht  she  had  been 
s  seemed  to  have 


left  their  sockets,  and,  naked  and  uncovered,  taken 
llitiir  places  above  the  sunken  lids,  unblinking, 
unresting.  He  could  think  of  nothing  but  the 
lieadligiit  of  an  engine  ta  it  shrieks  into  tlie  depot 
lit  night,  its  fiei-ce  eye  putting  out  every  clUec 
light,  so  bright,  so  wild,  so  unhumun  seemed 
these  eyes  watching  him  narrowly  now. 

This  was  a  task  such  as  had  never  met  him 
Iwfore  in  all  his  varied  experiences.  He  had  been 
the  confidant  of  many  a  wretched  man  and  woman, 
had  knelt  at  the  dying  bed  of  murderer,  thief, 
and  sorceress,  but  never  had  such  eyes  searched 
his,  or  such  blankness  of  despair  met  his  tender 
solicitation. 

Would  she  not  like  to  have  him  pray?  No. 
He  began  to  quote  Oou's  word,  she  silenced  him. 
"  I  want  nothing  but  your  ears,"  she  gasped. 
"  When  you  have  lent  them  until  I  am  done  then 
you  will  know  whether  pmyer  is  of  any  avail  in 
my  behalf." 

She  seemed  so  near  death,  so  unlikely  to  survive 
the  recital  of  her  story,  that  Herbert  bad  desired 
to  press  Christ  on  her  attention  first;  but  she 
would  not  listen.  There  was  nothing  else  to  be 
done,  she  must  free  her  mind. 

He  wrote  a  few  hasty  words  to  his  mother,  lest 
she  should  woiTy  over  his  non- appearance,  and  dis- 
patched it  by  a  little  boy,  then  he  came  and  took 
Ilia  place  again  by  the  bed,  bidding  the  woman 
Hpeak  freely  and  without  fear  since  he  was  her 
friend. 


HHM 


^ 


298 


HERUEllT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


:i 


"  Thank  you,"  she  said  courteously.  "  I  must 
speak  f  i-eely  if  I  would  gain  peace.  That  it  is  to  a 
friend  seems  stitiaj.^e  irony." 

What  a  tale  was  that  1  The  two  listeners 
shuddered  as  it  went  on.  A  story  of  low,  seliish 
ambition  that  robbed  life  of  its  purpose  at  its 
source  and  culminated  in  murder.  Yes,  murder. 
Lee  Erdley,  pure,  holy,  womanly  Lee  Erdley  had  a 
murderess  for  a  mother — had  lived  her  guileless 
life  daily  in  such  unholy  companionship,  so  near 
comes  heaven  to  hell.  Herbert  felt  the  shudder 
that  ran  through  the  form  at  the  other  side  of  the 
bed,  and  avoided  the  eyes  that  sought  his,  lest  she 
should  read  in  them  his  horror. 

"I  hated  him,"  said  this  woman  feebly  and  ,vith 
effort,  for  self-murder  had  made  possible  to  her 
as  to  others,  the  murder  of  another.  "  I  hated  him, 
though  he  was  my  husband.  He  bound  me  when 
I  wished  to  be  free,  ha  caressed  me  when  his 
caresses  were  intolerable.  I  felt  I  must  get  lid  of 
him.  The  thought  grew  upon  me  ;  I  tried  to  shake 
it  off,  it  came  back,  it  followed  me.  I  gave  him 
small  doses  of  araenic — I  used  to  take  it  moderately 
myself  for  my  complexion.  He  suspected  me  and 
charged  me  with  the  deed  the  night  before  he 
died,  for  it  had  made  him  ill.  I  denied  the  charge, 
and  in  a  fit  of  anger  administered  in  his  tea  the 
fatal  draught  that  ended  his  life.  That  was  not 
arsenic,  it  was  a  powder  given  me  by  a  gypsy 
woman.    I  had  not  dared  use  it  sooner. 

"  I  oould  not  keep  away  from  him  after  I  had 


mELL,  JR. 
ourteously.     "I  must 


A  STRANGE  RECITAL. 


299 


peace. 


That  it  is  to  a 


The    two    listeners 
\  story  of  low,  selfish 
of  its  purpose  at  its 
murder.    Yes,  murder, 
lanly  Lee  Erdley  had  a 
lad  lived  her  guileless 
companionship,  so  near 
irbert  felt  the  shudder 
[vt  the  other  side  of  the 
that  sought  his,  lest  she 

rror. 

woman  feebly  and  with 
I  made  possible  to  her 
another.  "I hated  him, 
d.  He  bound  me  when 
caressed  me  when  his 

IfeltlTOM««  get  rid  of 
ipon  me;  I  tried  to  shake 
lowed  me.  I  gave  him 
sed  to  take  it  moderately 
I.  He  suspected  me  and 
,ed   the   night  before  he 

ill.  I  denied  the  charge, 
ainistered  in  his  tea  the 
I  his  life.  That  was  not 
ir  given  me  by  a  gypsy 
1  use  it  sooner. 
my  from  him  after  I  had 


rcivUy  committed  the  deed.  I  kept  going  to 
him,  uneasy  and  afraid.  He  was  very  affectionate, 
sensitively  alarmed,  lest  he  had  wounded  me  by 
his  suspicions,  asking  me  to  forgive  him.  i  tried 
to  coax  him  to  take  an  emetic,  hiding  my  real 
reason  for  this  by  a  reference  to  his  late  fears. 
But  he  would  not  listen  to  the  suggestion.  He  had 
been  very  wrong  to  grieve  me,  he  said,  and  would 
prove  how  absolutely  he  trusted  me  by  never 
doubting  me  again.     He  never  did. 

"  He  fell  asleep  hnd  woke  in  some  terror  and 
distress  as  if  from  a  bad  dream.  He  found  me 
beside  him,  and  blessed  me  for  my  faithfulness. 
The  last  movement  of  his  dying  eyes  was  towards 
me  with  an  attempted  smile.  He  did  not  die  hard. 
I  was  mad,  frenzied,  yet  I  dared  not  call  a  physician 
lest  he  discover  my  secret,  I  dared  not  summon 
friends  lest  they  suspect.  I  gave  him  a  deadly 
draught  in  my  anger,  and  let  him  die  in  my 
cowardice.  Everybody  supposed  he  died  while  I 
slept— some  sudden  affection  of  the  heart.  I  have 
lived  a  hell  on  earth  ever  since." 

She  had  drawn  herself  to  a  sitting  posture  as 
she  proceeded  with  her  narrative,  she  fell  back 
heavily  at  its  close.  Herbert  rose  and  arranged 
the  pillows  under  her  head  and  moistened  her 
mouth.    Her  daughter  seemed  for  the  time  pai-a- 

lyzed.  - 

He  whispered  to  her,  divine  words:  "Though 
your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  jhall  be  as  white  as 
snow  ;  though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  sbaU 


■'xmmmmmn 


800 


UERBERT  GAMDXNEIL,  JR. 


be  as  wool."  "If  we  confess  our  sins.  He  is  faith- 
ful and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us 
from  all  unrighteousness."  "  Him  that  cometh  to 
me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  "  Come  unto  M« 
all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest,"  adding  that  the  real  rendering  of 
the  last  passage  was  simply  Christ's  beckoning 
hand,  "Hither,  I  will  rest  you." 

But  the  woman  did  not  seem  to  heed.  He 
prayed,  but  it  was  as  if  into  deaf  ears.  She  spoke 
no  further  word  and  gave  no  sign  that  she  under- 
stood. But  his  ministry  reached  the  heart  that 
had  nurtured  itself  on  heavenly  things.  Lee,  pale 
but  composed,  rose  from  the  place  where  she  had 
crouched  with  her  face  hidden  in  the  bed-clothes 
and  prepared  her  mother's  medicine. 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Gardeuell,"  she  said,  "  I 
think  you  can  do  no  more  to-night.  Perhaps  God 
will  spai'e  her  another  day,  aiid  open  her  heart  to 
His  message." 

He  felt  himself  dismissed,  yet  hesitated  about 
leaving  her  alone  after  this  awful  divulgence  of 
guilt.  She  read  his  thought.  "  You  are  kind,  but 
I  shsdl  not  mind  it,"  she  said.  "  I  have  lived 
right  here  for  years  and  found  it  the  very  gate  of 
heaven." 

"  God  bless  you,"  ho  said  tenderly.    "  To  such 

as  you  hell  itself  could  be  no  barrier  to  God's 

presence.     Yet  I  should  be  pleased  to  share  your 

vigils." 

"Thank  you,  there  will  be  no  need."     How 


A  STRAKGK  RECITAL, 


Ml 


r  sins.  He  is  faitli* 
3,  and  to  cleanse  us 
[im  that  oometh  to 

"  Come  unto  Mo 
laden,  and  I  will 

real  rendering  of 
Christ's  beckoning 

jem  to  heed.  He 
i  ears.  She  spoke 
gn  that  she  under- 
led  the  heai't  that 
things.  Lee,  pale 
ace  where  she  had 
1  in  the  bed-clothes 
icine. 

ell,"  she  said,  "I 
ght.  Perhaps  God 
d  open  her  heart  to 

ret  hesitated  about 
wful  divulgence  of 
"  You  are  kind,  but 
d.  "  I  have  lived 
it  the  very  gate  of 

mderly.  "  To  such 
10  barrier  to  God's 
eased  to  share  your 

no  need.' 


quietly  sad  her  voice.  "  Others  have  claims  on 
your  Hme,  and  your  mother  will  be  alarmed  at 
your  long  delay.  If  you  can  spare  a  little  while 
to-morrow "  she  did  not  finish  her  request. 

"  I  shall  be  here  in  the  morning.  In  the  mean 
while  may  God  rest  your  soul  and  body  in  Him- 
self." 

He  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  went  out. 


SwifsSSOR&SifflB*^***^  i 


-^'*'% 


802 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

AN  END  AND  A  BEGINNING. 

»*  It  was  not  the  '  come  forth '  that  made  Lazarus  live, 
But  the  Life  close  by, 
For  how  should  words  power  to  the  powerless  give?" 

— S.  F.  S. 

"Every  Inmost  aspiration  Is  God's  angel  undefiled; 
And  in  every  'O  my  Father  1'  slumbers  deep  a  'Here,  my 
child.' " 

The  message  Herbert  had  sent  his  mother  read 
thus :  "  1  may  be  very  late,  do  not  wait  for  me. 
Lee's  mother  is  dying,  I  may  remain  with  her." 

Nevertheless  when  he  returned  that  night  he 
found  his  mother  watching  for  his  coming.  Some- 
thing in  his  face  made  her  draw  him  into  the  pai^ 
lor  and  into  a  chair  and  fold  her  arms  about  him. 

"  It  has  been  a  fearful  night  to  you,"  she  said. 

»  A  fearful  night,"  he  assented. 

"  Is  she  dead?  Mre.  Erdley  ?  " 

"  No,"  with  a  shudder.    "  She  still  lives  if  any- 
thing so  ghastly  can  be  called  life,  anything  so  like 

death."  , 

"  Then  there  is  still  hope  for  her,  my  son  ? 
"  Yes,  I  am  going  again  in  the  morning." 
"  Something  else  burdens  you,  dear." 


Vi^^mi^^^t 


LL,  JR. 


AN  END  AND  A  BEGIN  NINO. 


808 


IX. 

[NNING. 

aade  Lazarus  live, 

e  powerless  give?" 
— S.  F.  S. 
el  undefiled; 
ibers  deep  a  '  Here,  my 

3nt  his  mother  read 
o  not  wait  for  me. 
imain  with  her." 
•ned  that  night  he 
his  coming.  Sorae- 
V  him  into  the  pai^ 
er  arms  about  him. 
t  to  you,"  she  said, 
ed. 
?" 

he  still  lives  if  any- 
life,  anything  so  like 

rher,  my  son?" 
he  morning." 
lu,  dear." 


"  Mother,  I  am  tortured  for  that  girl — that  pure, 
holy,  beautiful  life  lived  almost  on  the  verge  of 
the  pit  So  full  of  strength  and  pathos  and  pos- 
sibility to  suffer  and  to  bear." 

"  Her  release  is  near,  Herbert." 

"Yes,  but  her  memory,  her  soul,  they  will 
always  hold  the  impress  of  these  years  of  horror." 

"  Have  they  been  years  of  horror  to  her  ?  Have 
they  not  rather  been  years  of  growth  toward  and 
in  God?" 

"  True,"  he  cried.  "  It  is  myself  after  all  that 
is  out  of  joint.  Mother,  I  am  possessed  with  an 
unutterable  longing  to  snatch  her  from  her  sur- 
roundings, her  hardships,  to  strain  her  to  my  heart 
and  stand  between  her  and  every  evil,  lifting  her 
on  my  own  bosom  to  the  joy,  and  peace,  and  beauty 
that  are  her  inalienable  right." 

'*  Herbert,  you  are  denying  your  heart  what  your 
life  demands.  Why  do  you  not  let  yourself 
love?" 

His  head  drooped  to  his  breast. 

"  Let  I "  he  said,  "  I  cannot  hinder.  I  am  fight- 
ing for  my  life,  my  self-respect,  and  I  am  not  a 
conqueror." 

"  Your  self-respect  1 "  she  echoed.  "  Does  any 
man  lose  self-respect  who  loves  purely  so  noble  a 
woman  as  Lee  Erdley  ?  " 

"  Never,"  he  answered.  "  But,  mother,  I 
thought  I  loved  before.  Can  that  which  dies  so 
speedily  have  ever  had  birth  ?  " 

"  Babies  die  new-born." 


HERBERT  OARDESELL,  JR. 

«  Yes,  but  not  men,  nor  should  the  full-prown 
love  of  a  man.    I  never  felt  anything  like  this 
before.    I  do  not  understand  myself.    I  am  pained, 
amazed,  grieved— and,  yet  happy  beyond  all  ut- 
temnce  at  one  and  the  same  time.    I  have  fought 
this  passion  with  all  my  strength  yet  fall  before  it 
like  an  infant.    I  determine  to  avoid  her  and  her 
face  shines  up  to  me  from  every  printed  page  and 
out  of  every  avenue  of  my  being;  I  strive  to  put 
her  out  of  memory  and  her  lightest  word  comes 
back  to  thrill  and  defy  me.     I  would  purchase  her 
smile  at  the  price  of  torture.    I  am  possessed  by 
that  which  has  come  unbidden  and  will  not  go  at 
either  entreaty  or  command." 

His  mother  smiled.  "Herbert,  you  ai-e  simply 
in  love,"  she  said.  "  I  think  perhaps  that  is  the 
only  real  love  ;  the  kind  that  comes  unbidden  and 
unsought— that  takes  possession  of  us  against  and 
yet  with  the  fullest  consent  of  our  will ;  which  we 
could  no  more  create  or  counterfeit  than  we  could 
God's  sun  and  dew.  I  doubt  if  anything  less,  any- 
thing we  go  out  to  seek  or  foster  is  worthy  of  that 

holy  name." 

He  did  not  answer  her.  "  Perhaps,  she  l)egan 
again,  but  a  finger  was  gently  laid  on  her  lips. 

"  Don't  say  it,  mother.  It  humiliates  me  beyond 
telling,  the  bare  suggestion  that  I  may  have  offered 
to  any  woman  less  than  she  had  right  to  de- 
mand." 

"  Unknowing,"  added  a  low  voice. 

"  Unknowing,"  he  rejoined  sadly.     "  But  sup- 


mm 


,L,  JR. 

Id  the  fuU-prown 
iiytUing  like  this 
elf.    I  am  pained, 
»y  beyond  all  ut- 
).    I  have  fought 
1  yet  fall  before  it 
woid  her  and  her 
printed  page  and 
y ;  I  strive  to  put 
htest  word  comes 
rould  purchase  her 
I  am  possessed  by 
and  will  not  go  at 

srt,  you  ai-e  simply 
erhaps  that  is  the 
)mes  unbidden  and 
ri  of  us  against  and 
)ur  will ;  which  we 
•feit  than  we  could 
anything  less,  any- 
sr  is  worthy  of  that 

'erhaps,"  she  l)egan 
laid  on  her  lips, 
imiliates  me  beyond 
tl  may  have  offered 
had   right  to   de- 


AN  END  AND  A  BEOINNINO. 


806 


voice, 
sadly. 


"  But  sup- 


pose that  into  my  married  life  had  come  such  con- 
vulsions as  these  ?  "  He  shuddered.  "  I  start  biick 
from  the  awful  possibility  of  so  great  sin  in 
myself." 

■  "  Possibility  to  great  sin  is  also  possibility  to 
great  virtue.  I  have  learned  that  for  myself,  Her- 
bert. Being  what  you  are  such  thoughts  would 
never,  under  such  circumstances,  have  rippled  the 
current  of  your  being,  or,  having  suggested  them- 
selves, would  have  died  of  their  own  temerity  in 
a  soul  fully  surrendered  to  God.  Why  trouble 
yourself  unnecessarily,  my  son,  over  what  is  not  and 
can  never  be  ?  Who  shall  say  which  is  gi'eater 
sin,  to  ignorantly  offer  less  than  our  best  with 
intent  to  bless  another,  or  to  stubbornly  withhold 
our  choicest  when  its  bestowal  can  do  nothing  but 
enrich  both  giver  and  receiver  ?" 

He  was  silent  again  for  a  moment  then,  "  Mother, 
you  open  paradise,  but  I  fear  to  seek  an  entrance," 
he  said.  "  I  have  no  hope  whatever  that  Misa 
Erdley  has  any  answering  love  for  me." 

"  Then  rouse  it  in  her." 

"  Would  it  be  then  this  genuine,  spontaneous 
growth  of  which  you  speak  ?  " 

"  Like  begets  like,"  she  answered.  "  And  seed- 
sowing  is  lawful,  as  also  the  fertilizing  of  soil 
already  sown. .  All  growth  is  spontaneous,  the  out- 
cropping assurance  of  life  within.  I  think  Lee 
admires  you  very  much." 

He  made  a  little  gesture  of  contempt. 

♦'  I  do  not  covet  her  admii-ation  and  I  do  not  have 

20 


■^i^'M'ii^ 


806 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


it.  It  is  niy  office,  not  myself,  she  reveres ;  the 
truth  uttered,  not  the  man  who  utters  it,  thftt  she 
adores.  She  looks  me  in  the  eyes  as  quietly  and 
well-nigh  as  tenderly  as  you  do,  mother,  and  with- 
out a  flutter  more  of  pulse.  While  I— even  the 
calmest  of  her  glances  sends  my  blood  like  lava 
through  my  veins." 

<"•  I'm  afraid  this  isn't  his  father's  son  who  is 
talking  to  me  to-night,"  said  Yensie  Gurdenell. 
"  He  always  hoped  even  against  hope.  I  think  I 
must  tell  you  a  story  you  have  never  heard,  Herbert, 
the  story  of  your  mother's  failure  and  your  father's 
conquest  over  despair.  I  told  it  once  to  Eddie 
Campbell,  at  your  father's  request,  and  it  saved  him 
from  a  grave  mistake.  It  may  serve  now  to  rouse 
anew  in  you  the  courage  that  should  always  accom- 
pany your  father's  face." 

The  small  hours  of  morning  had  struck  when 
Herbert  left  his  mother  at  lier  chamber  door.  His 
kiss  on  her  lips  was  warm  and  clinging,  and  there 
were  trar;es  of  tears  on  both  faces.  He  had  been 
traversiiig  with  her  the  bitter  years  of  her  early 
life  and,  she  trusted,  not  in  vain. 

When  Mr.  Gardenell  called  on  Mre.  Ei-dley 
next  morning,  she  was  languidly  conscious  of  his 
presence  and  words.  She  had  not  spoken,  hardly 
movei\  all  night,  Lee  informed  him,  but  rallied  a 
little  after  day  dawn.  The  minister  could  not 
tell  whether  the  story  of  Christ's  love  entered  her 
understanding  at  all,  though  she  made  no  objection 
•to  the  reading  of  Scripture  or  the  offering  of  prayer. 


.,jn. 


AN  KfTD  AND  A  BEGINNING. 


807 


16  reveres ;  the 
ttera  it,  thnt  she 
a8  quietly  hikI 
other,  and  with- 
le  I— even  the 
blood  like  lava 

er'a  son  \(ho  is 
ensie  Gnrdenell. 
hope.  I  think  I 
r  heard,  Herbert, 
and  your  father'8 
;  once  to  Eddie 
and  it  saved  him 
rve  now  to  rouse 
Id  always  accom- 

lad  struck  when 
imber  door.  His 
tnging,  and  there 
s.  He  had  been 
ears  of  her  early 

OJi  Mre.  Ei-dley 
'  conscious  of  his 
ot  spoken,  hardly 
lim,  but  rallied  a 
mister  could  not 
love  entered  her 
nade  no  objection 
tffering  of  prayer. 


Befoi-e  Herbert  left  he  asked  permission  of  Lee  to 
bring  his  mother  with  liim  when  next  he  called. 

"  Motlier  has  always  had  marvellous  power  with 
the  sick,"  he  said.  "  My  father  often  remarked 
that  when  a  case  bafiHod  all  his  skill  he  i-esorted  to 
lier,  especially  where  a  woman's  heart  was  con- 
cerned, conscious  of  its  own  unworthiness  and  un- 
able to  realize  God's  love." 

Lee  saw  no  reason  why  she  should  refuse  this 
request.  The  pride  that  had  sought  to  shield  her 
mother  was  no  longer  available.  The  remem- 
brance of  it  and  of  her  own  humiliation,  were  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  consciousness  of  her  mother's 
need  and  peril.  It  was  doubtful  indeed  if  she 
realized  any  added  humiliation.  She  was  now  as 
ever  the  daughter  of  this  woman  who  was  exactly 
what  she  had  ever  Iteen.  The  knowledge  of  her 
sin  neither  enhanced  nor  diminished  it,  and  it  was 
but  sin.  Clirist  died  for  sin.  All  her  fears  and 
hopes  and  desires  centred  now  in  one  thing,  her 
mother's  salvation.  She  had  no  room  for  any- 
thing else.  She  was  ready  for  anything  that 
would  make  it  mora  probable. 

So  that  afternoon,  Yensie  Gardenell,  escorted  by 
her  son,  entered  the  humble  dwelling  and  sat 
down  by  the  sufferer's  side. 

There  was  something  in  the  beautiful  woman 
that  seemed  at  once  to  attract  the  dying  one — a 
nameless  grace  and  tenderness,  a  delicacy  of  touch 
and  tongue.  She  kissed  that  shiivelled  face  and 
held  in  closest  clasp  that  murderous  hand,  and 


t^aimi'^ 


UERIiEBT  GARDEN  ELL,  JU. 


h-^ 


Lee  turning  suddenly  awa/  to  liide  her  tears 
aurprmed  thera  in  the  eyes  of  this  mother's  son. 

How  wise  are  some  in  soul  healing  I  This 
skilled  worker  spoke  no  words  except  a  few  in 
friendly  greeting.  She  simply  sang  and  looked  the 
gospel  gladness  into  this  drooping  spirit.  Oh,  the 
power  of  saci-ed  song  1  How  Yensie's  children 
I lad  always  exulted  in  her  gift  I  How  her  oldest 
son  thanked  God  now  as  he  saw  the  sick  woman's 
wild  gaze  soften  and  melt  and  hunger,  almost  yearn- 
ing, take  on  her  face  the  place  of  stony  despair. 

Such  hymns  were  sung  as  are  full  of  the  Cross 
and  the  Blood,  heaven's  only  remedies  for  sin. 
The  two  young  people  sitting  one  side  hai-dly 
breathed  as  they  watched  und  prayed,  until  at  last 
a  tear — a  tear — dropped  over  the  sunken  cheek, 
and  a  voice,  harsh  in  its  eagerness,  asked,  "  For 
me?" 

"  For  you."  Yensie  Gardenell's  lovely  face  was 
close  beside  the  speaker's  in  another  moment,  her 
arms  about  the  attenuated  form  as  she  sang  with 
melting  tenderness, 

"Was  it  for  crimes  that  I  have  done 
He  hung  upon  the  tree  ? 
Amazing  pity  !  grace  unknown  I 
And  love  beyond  degree  ! " 

and  presently  they  were  weeping  and  praying  to- 
gether, sufferer  and  saint. 

"  I  am  a  great  sinner,"  Herbert  heard  the  dy- 
ing woman  whisper  hoarsely.  Then  that  gentle 
voice  answering, 


lide  her  tears 
other'ti  son. 
Baling  I  This 
cept  a  few  in 
md  looked  the 
pirit.  Oh,  the 
isie's  children 
low  her  oldest 
I  sick  woman's 
',  almost  yearn- 
ony  despair. 
I  of  the  Cross 
iiedies  for  sin. 
16  side  haixlly 
d,  until  at  last 
sunken  cheek, 
,  asked,  "  For 

ovely  face  was 
r  moment,  her 
•the  sang  with 

lone 
III 

,nd  praying  to- 
heard  the  dy- 
)n  that  gentle 


AN  END  AND  A  BEGINNINO. 

"  This  is  a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all 
acceptation,  that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world 
to  save  sinners." 

"  But  I  am  the  chief  of  sinnera,  you  cannot  im- 
agine what  I  have  l)een,  and  yet  you  say  it  is  all 
for  me  ? "  His  mother's  tears  dripped  freely  as 
she  sang  softly," 

"  Depths  of  mercy  I  can  there  be 
Mercy  still  reserved  for  me  ?" 

And  Herbert  slipped  out  of  the  room,  no  longer 
able  to  control  Jiis  feelings. 

When  he  came  back,  an  hour  after,  his  mother 
sat  where  the  woman's  eyes  could  feast  on  her 
face,  holding  her  hand.  She  smiled  at  her  son  but 
did  not  move  until  at  last  the  eyes  closed  and  the 
sufferer  slept  Then  she  rose  and  folded  Lee  to 
her  bosom  and  went  away  with  Herbert.  He 
came  back  later  and  insisted  on  sitting  beside  the 
in  valid  while  her  daughter  took  some  needed  rest. 
His  mother  was  too  frail  for  such  work  now. 

Mi-8.  Erdley  did  not  die  immediately.  She 
lingered  for  several  days.  It  was  wonderful  to 
see  how  the  expression  of  her  face  changed  in  that 
short  time,  how  the  cold,  hard  look  gave  place  to 
one  of  restful  trustfulnesu. 

Mrs.  Gp.rdenell  visited  her  every  day  and  was 
always  welcomed  by  a  smile.  She  was  always  mo- 
tioned to  a  chair  where  the  sick  one  could  watch 
her  best  and  always  asked  to  sing  one  hymn, 
"  Depth  of  mercy."    The  dying  one  had  kind  gi-eeb- 


r'*!^^. 


no 


IIKHBKHT  GARbSyKLL,  JH. 


ing«  an<l  hand-clftsiw  for  llirbert,  wistfully  tender 
yearning  glanceH  for  her  daughter,  but  for  Yensie 
were  re8ervo<l  hor  rare  smilen,  her  lew  confldenceH. 

At  last  one  night  Hhe  passed  ftway,  only  Lee  and 
Herbert  beside  her.  "I  trust  in  Jesus  Christ's 
raeroy,"  she  answered  feebly  to  the  young  minis- 
ter's gentle  "  You  do  not  fear  to  go  ?  "  tlmn,  in  a 
moment, 

"  Lenore,"  with  strange  distinctness  and  strength. 
"  Lenore,  my  hands  are  clean  !  there  is  no  stain  of 
blood  upon  them  but  His.  You  are  no  longer  the 
child  of  a  murderess." 

There  was  a  struggle,  a  cry — not  of  fear  or  pain 
but  of  seeming  surprise — the  jaw  fell,  and  Herbert 
took  Loo's  hand  and  led  her  from  the  room. 

A  humblo  funeral,  a  half  dozen  mournera,  two 
voices  in  holy  song,  one  in  prayer  and  a  few  simple 
words.  And  the  couch  was  empty,  the  house 
desolate,  Lenore  alone. 


JH. 

vlstfully  tender 
but  for  YeiiHie 
ew  confldenceH. 
y,  onl}-  Lee  and 
J08U8  Christ'H 
e  young  minis- 
;o  ?  "  thun,  in  a 

sssandBtrength. 
re  is  no  stain  of 
e  no  longer  the 

t  of  fear  or  pain 
all,  and  Herbert 
he  room, 
mournei-s,  two  s 
,nd  a  few  simple  k 
ipty,  the  house 


A  NEW  HQUK-A  PQHtHBLM  CALL. 


an 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A  NBW   FJMB — A  P08HIBLK  CALL. 

"  TYi«  purple  grapo — iMt  tl  ing  to  ripen— Ut« 
By  very  reaaon  of  Its  practoua  coat. 
O  heart  I  remember  vintages  are  Ick^ 
If  grapea  «lo  no^  for  freesiug  night-dewa  wait." 

— IIklkn  Hunt. 

*♦  I  WISH  you  could  persuade  Lenore  to  come  to 
us  if  only  for  awhile,  mother,"  said  Herbert,  the 
day  of  the  funeral.  "  I  invited  her,  but  she  only 
looked  surprised  and  refused,  thanking  me  and 
saying  she  should  not  be  lonely,  it  was  her  home  , 
Perhaps  by  and  by  she  would  find  a  room  nearer 
her  school." 

Mrs.  Garder.ell  tried  what  she  could  do. 

"  I  have  no  daughter,  and  you  no  mother,  Lee, 
and  I  miss  Olive  so  much.  If  you  would  only  con- 
sent to  take  her  place  and  give  me  a  right  to  your 
company." 

But  the  girl  hesitated,  and  Mrs.  Oardenell  felt 
sure  she  could  guess  her  reason. 

"  I  must  get  used  to  my  life,"  she  said,  "  and 
the  sooner  the  better.  This  would  only  spoil  me 
for  the  future.  I  should  only  miss  so  much  the 
more  some  day.    I  think  I  must  say  no." 


i.'^iM-,. 


!»tn^7?*  "^-  -■■  '  < 


812 


HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


:| 


.1 


"  But  we  only  live  one  day  at  a  time,  Lee.  Per- 
haps this  ia  God's  way  of  helping  you  over  the  first 
hard  days,  and  He  will  surely  lead  you  later.  I 
think  your  mother  would  he  glad  to  have  you  with 
nie,  and  we  hoth  know  Olive  would.  It  would  he 
only  joy  on  my  side.     Perhaps  I  am  selfish." 

*'■  You  selfish  I  Oh,  Mi's.  Gardenell,  I  am  the  self- 
ish one.  I  am  just  considering  myself.  Is  it  not 
hecause  I  am  afraid  of  joy,  afraid  I  shall  covet  it 
and  find  it  harder  to  live  after  it  is  gone?  Yes, 
mother  would  be  glad,  and  I  will  go  to  you  for  a 
little  while — ^just  a  littlo  while  until  I  can  get  set- 
tled nearer  my  work." 

She  moved  her  belongings  into  an  empty  cham- 
ber hired  from  the  upstaii-s  tenant,  locked  her  door 
and  slipped  into  the  Lome  life  of  the  Gardenells 
iw  naturally  as  if  she  had  always  been  a  part  of  it. 

They  made  no  fuss  over  her,  treated  her  as  no 
stranger,  allowed  her  to  come  and  go  at  pleasure, 
have  her  own  sweet  will.  Eddie  was  soon  her 
devoted  follower,  and  Herbert  envied  him  some- 
times his  easy  access  to  her  smiles  and  confidence. 

With  him  she  was  not  so  free.  That  of  which 
he  had  complained  to  his  mother  was  no  more  true. 
She  no  longer  met  his  eyes,  no  longer  had  utmost 
ease  in  his  presence,  she  seemed  almost  to  avoid 
him.  The  change  brought  only  p  rrow  and  won- 
der to  his  heart.  Was  it  because  lie  shared  with 
her  the  secret  of  her  mother's  sin?  Surely  she 
ought  to  know  him  better  than  to  suppose  that 
could  diminish  her  value  in  his  eyes. 


•^fiWff'-Mffgff-miiiiBffiiafiiit 


,t  a  time,  Lee.    Per- 
ig  you  over  th«j  first 

lead  you  later.  I 
id  to  have  you  with 
rould.     It  would  be 

I  am  selfish." 
denell,  I  am  the  self- 
f  myself.  Is  it  not 
i-aid  I  shall  covet  it 
ir  it  is  gone  ?  Yes, 
irill  go  to  you  for  a 
)  until  I  can  get  set- 

nto  an  empty  cham- 
lant,  locked  her  door 
fe  of  the  Gardenells 
ays  been  a  part  of  it. 
ir,  treated  her  as  no 
and  go  at  pleasure, 
Eddie  was  soon  her 
't  envied  him  some- 
niles  and  confidence, 
ree.     That  of  which 
ler  was  no  more  true, 
o  longer  had  utmost 
med  almost  to  avoid 
inly  s  rrow  and  won- 
ause  lie  shared  with 
jr's  sin?    Surely  she 
;han  to  suppose  that 
lis  eyes. 


A  NEW  HOME— A  POSSIBLE  CALL. 


813 


He  loved  to  watch  her  pretty  household  ways. 
He  understood  now  what  Olive  had  called  the 
"high  art"  of  her  dish-washing.  She  never 
allowed  the  china  or  silver  to  go  out  to  the  maid, 
dropping  easily  into  the  old  way  of  her  former 
sojourn  there. 

"  It  seems  almost  as  if  time  had  gone  backward," 
she  said  to  Mrs.  Gardenell  as  she  stood  wiping  the 
choice  cups  and  saucers.  "  If  only  Mr.  Gardenell 
and  Olive  and  Stanton  were  here,"  with  a  sigh. 

And  Herbert,  sitting  apart,  apparently  intent  on 
his  paper,  took  it  all  in.  The  sweet  confidence  of 
her  manner  toward  his  mother,  the  tender  home 
feeling  that  held  her  heart  in  the  familiar  place, 
the  dainty  handling  of  the  pretty  things  which 
took  on  sudden  value  from  her  touch. 

She  went  back  to  school  in  a  week.  Then  they 
only  saw  her  at  breakfast  and  at  late  dinner  and 
duiing  the  evenings.  Sometimes  from  the  study 
window  Herbert  saw  Eddie  accompanying  her  to 
the  car,  carrying  her  books.  Sometimes  he  heard 
her  placing  for  his  brother  the  music  which  he 
preferred.  It  was  amazing  to  him  to  find  out  by 
chance  words  and  allusions  how  speedily  she 
had  become  acquainted  with  the  young  ft. low's 
studies  and  perplexities,  his  friends  and  his 
hopes. 

To  himself  it  was  a  joy  just  to  have  her  near,  to 
know  she  was  in  the  room  or  house.  She  did  not 
know  how  often  his  eyes  followed  her  outgoing  or 
watched  for  her  return,  hjw  his  heart  gladdened 


814 


HERBERT  GARVENELL,  JR. 


when  her  light  step  tripped  up  the  stairs  or  her  low 
laughter  rippled  through  the  hall.  She  must  aever 
go  away  again. 

There  was  a  look  of  surprise,  yet  evident  pleas- 
ure too,  in  her  eyes  when  he  met  her  one  afternoon 
just  beyond  the  school-house  gato.  He  repeated  the 
experiment.  But  one  day,  at  his  station  a  little 
earlier  than  usual,  he  saw  her— unperceived  himself 

slip  out  of  the  side  door  of  the  building  and 

hasten  down  a  back  sti-eet.  He  never  chanced  that 
way  afterwards. 

There  wiis  another  Mission  party  ready  to  leave 
New  York.  This  time  there  were  among  them 
eight  of  Herbert's  little  band  which  was  gi-ow- 
inf*  steadily.  Tom  Burton  was  one  of  the  out- 
goers,  and  he  took  with  him  Grace  Germaine,  his 
month-old  bride. 

The  departure  had  a  hallowed,  mellowing  effect 
on  the  church  of  which  so  many  of  them  were 
active  membei-s.  It  was  a  growing  church  because 
a  giving  church — giving  not  only  of  its  material 
wealth  but  its  highest  life.  A  spirit  of  most  earnest 
consecration  rested  on  its  young  people  especially, 
and  the  meetings  increased  continually  in  interest 
and  numbers. 

It  was  the  pastor's  habit  to  preach  at  least  one 
missionary  sermon  each  month,  and  this  was  mis- 
sionary Sunday.  Mre.  Gardenell,  Lee  and  Eddie 
were  all  present  at  the  morning  service.  At  even- 
ing the  two  gentlemen  went  alone.  Lee  spent  the 
interval  on  her  knees  with  her  Bible,  Mrs.  Gar- 


denel 
leade: 
"Ii 
as  he: 
his  g( 


:x,  Jii. 

e  stairs  or  her  low 
,    She  must  never 

yet  evident  pleas- 
her  one  afternoon 
He  repeated  the 
[lis  station  a  little 
iperceived  himself 
the  huilding  and 
never  chanced  that 

,rty  ready  to  leave 
\rere  among  them 
which  was  grow- 
3  one  of  the  out- 
*ace  Germaine,  his 

I,  mellowing  effect 
Miy  of  them  were 
ing  church  because 
•nly  of  its  material 
irit  of  most  earnest 
f  people  especially, 
tinually  in  interest 

preach  at  least  one 
,  and  this  was  mis- 
sU,  Lee  and  Eddie 
;  service.  At  even- 
ine.  Lee  spent  the 
(r  Bible,  Mrs.  Gar- 


A  ySW  HOME— A  POaSIBLE  CALL. 


815 


deiiell  in  her  chamber,  holding  the  meeting  and  its 
leader  up  to  God. 

"  It  has  been  a  blessed  day,  Herbert,"  said  she 
OS  her  son  dropped  on  a  chair  at  her  bedside,  for 
his  good-night  chat  before  retiring  to  rest. 

"A  blessed  day,  mother  dear.  The  evening 
service  was  excellent,  the  atmosphere  tender  and 
deeply  spiritual,  and  one  peraon  asked  for  our 
prayers." 

The  earnest  face  of  the  speaker  was  pale  and 
weary,  and  there  was  an  undertone  of  almost  sad- 
ness in  his  voice  that  did  not  escape  the  listener's 
ears. 

"  Your  sermon  this  morning  was  powerful,  Her- 
bert, unanswerable.     God  gave  it  to  you." 

He  smiled  as  he  stooped  to  tenderly  kiss  the  lips 
that  spoke.  "  You  reminded  me  of  your  father 
when  at  his  best.     Lee  was  deeply  moved." 

"Yes,  I  know  "—hesitatingly.     "Mother,  she 
may  be  the  next  one  I  shall  send  forth." 
"  Alone,  my  son  ?  " 

"If  God  wills.  I  am  mistaken  if  she  did  not 
get  her  call  to-day." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  he  went  on.  "  It 
hiis  been  a  peculiar  day  to  me,  mother,  a  day  of 
heart-searching.  In  the  midst  of  the  morning  ser- 
mon I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Lee's  face.  The  solemn 
rapture  on  it  almost  overcame  me  for  the  moment. 
I  do  not  need  to  beg  your  pardon,  mother,  you  who 
always  understand  me— but  for  that  moment  every- 
thing within  me  cried  out  to  go  too.    The  unutter- 


i 


i 


fl 


) 


"^^ 


816 


HERBERT  OARDEJfELL,  JR. 


able  longing  to  speak  God's  truth  amorg  the 
heathen,  melted  my  soul  into  streams  of  desire 
and  my  whole  being  seemed  flowing  that  v/ay. 

"  For  a  time  I  was  overwhelmed.  The  old  call 
with  tenfold  intensity  swept  me  before  it  as  a  straw 
on  the  current  of  Niagara." 

There  was  a  gentle,  sympathetic  pressure  on  his 
hand.    His  eyes  thanked  her. 

"  At  first  it  seemed  like  the  mighty  renewal  of 
my  call  to  the  field,  but  I  know  better  now,"  he 
went  on  humbly.  "  It  was  only  God's  rebuke  of 
my  sluggishness." 

"  Rebuke  I  Herbert  ?  "  questioned  the  voice  at 
his  side.    "  Such  exalted  emotion  rebuke  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  such  rebuke  as  you  frequently 
administered  to  me  in  my  childhood  when  you 
gathered  my  naughty  self  to  your  bosom  and 
shone  all  the  loving  sorrow  of  your  soul  into  me 
through  your  tender  eyes.  How  my  boyish  lieart 
was  rent  between  the  throes  of  agony  and  de- 
light. But  love  always  conquered,  mother,  always 
will.  What  is  rebuke  but  disguised  blessing  ?  And 
TO.pture  ?  is  it  not  often  simply  glorified  pain  ? 

"  I  see  now  how  content  I  was  becoming  to  be 
nothing  but  an  arresting  voice,  a  guide-board 
pointing  to  others  the  way,  rather  than  an  anoint- 
ed leader — here  for  the  moment  to  arouse  his 
fellows,  but  ready,  eager  to  show  them  the  path 
and  tread  with  them  its  length.  Oh,  mother,  I  was 
unconsciously  losing  tlie  divine  unrest  of  a  soul 
fixed  in  his  will  yet  panting  ever  after  the  unat- 


LL,  JR. 

truth  amorg   the 
streams  of  desire 
i^ing  tliat  v/ay. 
led.     The  old  call 
before  it  as  a  straw 

tic  pressure  on  his 

mighty  renewal  of 

7  better  now,"  he 

God's  rebuke  of 

aned  the  voice  at 
n  rebuke  ?  " 
as  you  frequently 
Idhood  when  you 

your  bosom  and 
i^our  soul  into  me 
7  my  boyish  lieart 
of  agony  and  de- 
ed, mother,  always 
ed  blessing  ?  And 
glorified  pain  ? 
is  becoming  to  be 
je,  a  guide-board 
er  than  an  anoint- 
lent  to  arouse  his 
ow  them  the  path 

Oh,  mother,  I  was 
e  unrest  of  a  soul 
rer  after  the  unat- 


A  NEW  HOME— A  POSSIBLE  CALL, 


817 


tained.  Hov  can  he  enthuse  another  to  volunteer 
who  is  not  himself  girded  for  battle,  shod  and 
armored  to  lead  the  fray  ?  " 

Agfain  the  soothing  of  that  loving  hand.  This 
mother  read  in  her  son's  voice  all  the  conflict  and 
the  victory  his  soul  had  met  that  day,  and  she 
knew  it  had  not  been  without  much  weariness  and 
pain  that  he  had  conquered. 

"  A  hai-d  lesson  well  learned,"  she  said. 

"  A  lesson  learned,"  he  replied.  "  And  God  let 
Lee  Erdley  set  me  the  copy.  This  may  be  the 
purpose  for  which  she  touched  my  life." 

" This  and  more"  answered  his  mother. 

Ho  smiled  again  into  the  dark  eyes  looking  so 
hopefully  into  his. 

"  This  and  more,  thank  you,  little  mother,  I  ac- 
cept the  amendment  and  pray  God  it  may  be 
true." 

"  What  will  you  do?  "she  asked. 

"  Do  I  where  God  has  spoken  who  else  shall 
dare  lift  his  voice  ?  " 

"He  to  whom  God  has  spoken  also.  Every 
word  of  God  is  good." 

"  What  if  he  hardly  discern  between  the  voice 
of  his  Master  and  his  own  desire  ?  " 

"  If  any  man  lack  wisdom  let  him  ask  of  Gcd. 
The  inward  desire  is  at  least  a  thii-d  part  of  his 
guidance.  The  written  Woi-d  and  the  speaking 
Providence  can  make  it  absolute  certainty." 

He  smiled  again.  How  weary  he  looked. 
♦*  You  need  your  bed  "  she  said  "  and  I  mutt  not  de- 


818 


HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


tain  you.  Bat  let  me  say  this  much  more :  the 
word  as  well  as  the  heart-impression  is  yo-ii-a  for 
*  marriage  is  honorable  in  all '  and  has  the  sanction 
of  his  blessing." 

He  stooped  to  kiss  her.  "  There  is  a  missing 
link.  God's  providence  has  called  Lee  to  the 
mission  field,"  he  said  as  his  lips  touched  here. 

"Not  more  really  than  He  has  called  you, 
Herbert." 

He  hesitated. 

"  True,  little  mother,  no  mortal  could  be  more 
truly,  more  divinely  called  than  I  have  been." 

"  And  the  gifts  and  calling  of  God  are  without 
repentance,"  she  quoted.  "  Perhaps  you  will  dis- 
agree with  my  exegesis,  Herbert,  but  I  have  this 
to  say  in  its  defence  ;  I  have  marked  numberless 
instances  where  it  ran  parallel  with  His  provi- 
dences. I  fail  to  see  why,  if  while  calling  you  to 
another  field  He  yet  for  the  present  appoints  you 
to  this,  He  may  not  also  appoint  you  a  helper 
here  who  is  fitted  to  the  exigencies  of  that  call." 

He  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed.  "  What 
shall  I  call  you,  mamma,  sophist  or  schemer  ?  " 

"Neither,"  she  answered  promptly.  "You 
shall  call  me  no  name  but  my  right  one — mother. 
The  one  above  all  earthly  othei-s  interested  in 
your  highest  good  and  greatest  usefulness  and 
never  willing  to  lead  youVhere  God  has  not  said 
you  may  follow." 

Reverently  he  stooped  and  gathered  her  for  a 
moment  to  liis  bosom. 


4)  V  a* 


A  NEW  HOME— A  POSSIBLE  CALL. 


819 


nuch  more :  the 
ion  ia  yo'ii-a  for 
lias  the  Banction 

ere   is  a  missing 
led  Lee   to   the 
ouched  hex's, 
las    called    you, 


1  could  be  more 
have  been." 
Grod  are  without 
aps  you  will  dis- 
,  but  I  have  this 
■ked  numberless 
with  His  provi- 
e  calling  you  to 
3nt  appoints  you 
it  you  a  helper 
lies  of  that  call." 
ughed.  "  What 
)r  scliemer  ?  " 
omptly.  "  You 
lit  one — mother, 
i-s  interested  in 
usefulness  and 
Grod  has  not  said 


"Most  loving,  most  true  and  therefore  most 
wise,"  he  whispered.  "  Your  words  will  not  soon 
l)e  forgotten.  From  your  heart  they  have 
reached  mine,  pray  God  they  may  have  nas&ed 
tl\rough  His  in  their  journey  and  so  bring  me  only 
His  will  for  me.  His  will /or  me,  mother,  for  me. 
Not  His  usual  leadings,  not  His  will  for  most  of 
children  but  His  will  for  me.  That  I  must  know 
and  do." 

He  put  her  back  on  her  pillows,  covered  her 
gently,  kissed  her  good-night.  But  she  clung, 
whispering,  to  his  neck. 

"  Do  you  remember  what  Elizabeth  Charles  says, 
Herbert  ?  '  God  does  not  need  to  make  room  for 
Himself  by  making  a  desert  and  a  desolation.  He 
made  room  for  Himself  by  creating  the  worlds.'  " 

"  Hush  I "  he  said,  the  thrill  at  liis  heart  vibrat- 
ing in  his  voice.  "  Hush  1  It  was  through  His  own 
desert  He  perfected  our  Eden.  The  room  he  made 
was  for  Himself  to  die." 

"  To  die  and  live  again,"  she  cried  triumphantly, 
"  and  behold  He  is  alive  forevermore." 

He  went  out  reverently. 


^thered  her  for  a 


■  >iiniiiuiiin.f.p     .iiiil  '  lit" 


tiO 


MEBBEBT  QABDENBLL,  JB. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


THE  OLD  STORY. 


"Tlie  light  not  the  clood,— the  Joy,  not  the  ■orrow— Is  what 
endurath,  hecaoM  God  is  love,  and  love  is  heaven." 

—Mrs.  Chaklkb. 

It  was  prayeivmeeting  night.  Mrs.  Gardenell 
had  been  suffering  all  day  with  headache.  Her- 
bert had  been  obliged  to  leave  the  city  in  an  early 
train,  but  as  there  was  no  school,  Lee  had  spent  most 
of  the  day  beside  the  sufferer,  bathing  her  head 
and  doing  all  she  could  to  alleviate  her  pain.  She 
had  fallen  asleep  before  dinner  time,  and  lay  with 
wide  open  eyes  when  the  girl  again  appeared. 

"How  rested  you  look!  Is  your  head  bet- 
ter?" 

"  Much  better.  The  pain  is  all  gone,  I  am 
simply  weak.  I  thank  you  so  much  for  your  care, 
dear  Lee." 

The  thanks  were  broken  off  short  with  a  kiss. 
"  Who  shall  thank  you  for  all  you  are  always 
doing  for  me  ?  and  I  have  something  to  tell  you 
that  is  such  poor  reward  for  your  kindness.  I 
have  been  almost  glad  I  could  not  tell  it  to-day,  I 
have  dreaded  it  so  much.    But  now  you  are  better 


n 


JB. 


TBE  OLB  STORY. 


821 


be  sorrow— is  what 

leaven." 

-Miu.  Chahlkb. 

Mrs.  Gardenell 
leadache.  Her- 
city  in  an  early 
3  had  spent  most 
thing  her  head 
I  her  pain.  She 
le,  and  lay  with 
n  appeared, 
your  head  bet- 
all  gone,  I  am 
jh  for  your  care, 

rt  with  a  kiss, 
you  are  always 
ling  to  tell  you 
lur  kindness.  I 
t  tell  it  to-day,  I 
w  you  are  better 


I  must  not  delay.  I  must  have  itover.  I — I  have 
found  another,"  slie  hesitated,  unwilling  to  saiy 
home — **  another  room,"  she  finished,  "  I  am  going 
away." 

"  Lee,  Lee  I  how  can  you  ?  and  how  can  we  get 
along  without  you  ?  " 

*'  Far  better  than  I  can  without  you,"  answered 
the  girl  brokenly,  "  I  am  not  going  because  I  wish 
to  go,  but  I  mutt." 

"Must  leave  your  best  friends?"  in  surprise. 
"  Lee,  you  are  cruel.  What  reason  can  you  give 
me  for  going  ?  " 

'♦  None,  none.     I  must  not  think  of  reaeons,  I 

must  go.    Oh,  I  hate  to  leave  you  and  I  hate  to 

grieve  you,"   hiding    her  face   in   the    coverlet. 

*  Please  don't  urge  me  to  stay,  dear  Mra.  Gai*- 

►  denell,  I  dare  not." 

"No,  dear,  I  will  not  urge  you  against  your  will. 
But  I  will  ask  you  to  delay  your  departure,  for  my 
sake,  until  you  have  carefully  reconsidered  the 
matter." 

"  It  will  do  no  good,  it  will  make  no  difference," 
mournfully.  "  I  have  considered  it  very  much, 
but  always  reach  the  same  conclusion." 

"  When  do  you  go  ?  '' 

"  Saturday  night,  I  think." 

"  So  soon  ?  •  You  owe  us  at  least  a  week  or  two 
of  warning." 

"  I  owe  you  more  than  I  can  ever  pay,  this  will 
only  swell  the  debt.  You  must  not  think  me  un- 
grateful, you  must  not  think  I  am  glad  to  go  out 
ai 


■•»%.. 


822  HERBERT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 

into  the  world  again.    It  is  not  because  I  do  not 

love  you  all." 

Mrs.  Gardenell   soothed  her.     "  There,  there, 

do  not  cry.     We  will  pmy  about  it,  dear.     Vev 

haps  you  are  distrusting  God,  Lee,  taking  your 

life  into  your  own  hands.    Do  not  haste  or  grieve." 

They  talked  awhile  longer,  and  then  the  girl  went 

away  to  prepare  for  evening   meeting.     Slie  w.i8 

gone  a  very  few  minutes  when  Herbert  appeared. 

"  Awake  and  better?    You  were  asleep  awhile 

ago  when  I  reached  home." 

She  smiled.  "  Did  you  meet  your  appointment 
all  right  ?     Have  you  had  a  good  day  ?  " 

» In  every  re8pe<;t  but  one,  I  left  my  mother 
suffering  at  my  departure.  You  have  scarcely 
been  out  of  my  mind  all  day." 

«'  Needless  worry,"  she  said  fondly.    "  I  have  had 
'     excellent  care.    Lea  has  hardly  left  my  side  a 
moment." 

"  Where  is  she  now,  mother?" 
"  Gone  to  prepare  for  meeting." 
"  How  long  since  ?  "  consulting  his  \vi\t>  \ 
"  Perhaps  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes." 
"  I  will  walk  clown  witli  her,"  he  said. 
"  She  has  decided  to  leave  us,  Herbert.' 
»'  Leave  us  1 "  he  started.     "  She  shall  not,  I  will 
not  permit  it,  she  needs  her  home.     How  wilful 
she  must  be,  mother,  for  such  a  gentle  being.    I  will 
put  a  stop  to  this  if  possible."     He  kissed  her  and 
went  out,  waiting  a  few  moments  in  the  hall  for 
Lee's  appearance. 


iuse  I  do  not 

There,  there, 
t,  dear.  Pei'- 
taking  your 
ite  or  grieve." 
» the  girl  went 
ng.  Siie  wiw 
K3rt  appeared, 
asleep  awhile 

r  appointment 

y?" 

[t  my  mother 

have  scarcely 

.    "  I  have  had 
eft  my  side  a 


is  wat* '». 
tes." 
said, 
srbert.' 

shall  not,  I  will 

.     How  wilful 

le  being.    I  will 

kissed  her  and 

in  the  hall  for 


TUE  OLD  STORY. 


828 


•♦  Do  you  know  whether  Miss  Erdley  has  left  the 
house  or  not,  Mary?"  he  inquired  of  the  maid 
who  passed  him  presently. 

''  She  went  out  of  the  side  door  ten  minutes  ago 
I  should  think,  sir." 

"  Thank  you,"  Herbert  smiled  grimly. 

Eddie  came  down  the  staira  singing  as  Herbert 
opened  the  door.  "  Coming  my  way  ?  "  asked  the 
elder. 

"  No  ;  I'm  sorry  but  there's  a  lecture  befoi-e  the 
class  to-night  and  I  cannot  miss  it." 

"I  see.  Is  that  why  Lee  took  advantage  of  the 
side  door  this  evening  ?  my  company  alone  would 
be  intolerable." 

Eddie  gave  his  brother  a  roguish  glance. 

*»  She  does  avoid  you  lately,  that's  a  fact,  but  it's 
not  a  bad  sign.  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady, 
you  know,"  and  he  swung  around  a  corner. 

It  was  a  quiet  meeting,  but  tender.  The  leader 
was  delayed  a  few  moments  when  it  was  over,  and 
by  the  time  he  reached  the  door  the  girl  he  sought 
had  escaped  and  was  out  of  sight.  He  laughed, 
to  himself,  amused  and  a  little  nettled.  He  would 
outmatch  her  yet.  She  would  not  be  likely  to  go 
home  the  usual  way.  He  struck  into  a  side  street 
and  soon  ovei-took  her,  catching  up  to  her  side. 

"  Runaway,"  he  said,  a  ripple  of  mischief  in  his 
voice,  "  I  think  you  will  have  to  slacken  your  pace 
now,  to  give  me  chance  to  recover  my  breath. 
Permit  me,"  and  he  drew  hev  hand  through  his 
arm.    "  See,  we  are  going  to  walk  slowly.    Am  I 


IlKHnmiT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 


yerj  offwnsive  to  you,  !-««,  that  you  avoid  me  80 
much?" 

''How  can  you  imagine  such  a  thing,  Mr. 
Gardenell?" 

"  But  you  do  avoid  me,  do  you  not?  You  ran 
away  from  me  one  afternoon  after  school — I  saw  you 
do  it — and  you  have  repeated  the  offence  twice  to- 
night. What  ought  I  to  conclude  from  these  facte  ? 
Lee,  be  hoiietit  with  me  and  tell  me,  do  you  not 
intentionally  shun  me  ?  " 

He  waited  for  her  answer  and  out  of  her  truth 
she  breathed  a  low  "  Yes." 

"  I  tliought  so,  and  it  grieves  me.  Then  mother 
tells  me  you  are  going  to  leave  us.  I  think  that 
must  be  my  fault,  too,  since  you  seem  to  like  Eddie 
and  mamma.  The  house  will  be  very  lonely  with- 
out you.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  shall  miss  you. 
It  seems  as  if  I  could  not  let  you  go :  and  yet  it 
can  hardly  be  pleasant  for  you  to  live  in  the  ho'ise 
with  one  you  desire  to  avoid.    Am  I  right,  Lee?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

♦♦  And  that  is  your  reason  for  going?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  yet  you  are  sure  you  do  not  dislike  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  again.  It  seemed  impossible  for  her 
to  speak  in  anything  but  monosyllables,  and  they 
seemed  nearly  to  choke  her. 

She  was  much  distressed.  She  had  never  seen 
him  like  this  befoi-e.  So  masterful,  so  determined 
to  have  his  own  way,  to  say  and  know  what  he  willed. 
Was  he  disturbed  at  the  manner  in  which  she  was 


void  me  mo 

thing,   Mr. 

'  You  ran 
— I  Hftw  you 
ce  twice  to- 
these  fact*  ? 
do  you  not 

of  her  truth 

Then  mother 
think  that 
o  like  Eddie 
lonely  with- 
lU  miss  you. 
;  and  yot  it 
in  tl's  ho'ise 
right,  Lee?" 

?" 

lislike  me?" 
isible  for  her 
les,  and  they 

.  never  seen 
)  determined 
lat  he  willed, 
lich  she  was 


TlIK  OLD  STORY. 


825 


rttuming  their  kindneas?  She  did  not  see  the 
light  iis  his  eyes  iwlie  askod  the  nt'xt  question,  she 
would  not  have  dared  l(M>k  up  and  meet  it 

"  I  can  think  of  but  one  otiier  reason  why  you 
should  avoid  me,  Lee,  and  that  hardly  seems  pm- 
Hible  either.     Is  it^^iau  it  be  because  you  love  me  ?  " 

He  felt  the  hand  on  his  arm  tremble  but  she  did 
not  speak.  What  could  she  say?  She  was  » 
woman  of  truth,  and  if  she  spoke  at  all  she  must 
speak  the  truth, and  she  knew,  as  she  knew  nothing 
else  tliat  moment,  that  she  loved  this  man  utte  ''y. 
She  could  not  deny  it;  dared  she  affirm  it?  She 
liad  no  reason  to  suppose  he  returned  her  affection. 
He  had  been  always  kind,  as  his  father  was,  but  he 
was  lifted  above  her  in  hiar  evety  thought — sasred ; 
and  she  knew  too  of  his  loss  and  sorrow  over 
another. 

How  was  il  possible  for  her  to  acknowledge  her 
folly.  Not  that  she  was  asliamed  of  it,  >,  never. 
It  was  a  holy  thing  and  modest,  it  did  not  intend 
to  thrust  itself  into  notice,  it  only  asked  privilege 
to  exist  unseen,  unknown,  cherished  in  her  heart  of 
hearts.  She  had  not  sought  or  fostered  it.  It  had 
come  like  the  violet  and  the  dewdrop  come,  un- 
heralded except  by  the  spring  atmosphere,  the  new 
life  that  must  bring  something  into  being. 

Would  he  understand  all  this?  Surely  he 
must,  being  himself,  must  understand  and  pity  and 
shield.  He  was  to  her  the  sum  of  all  perfection — 
the  one  of  all  earth  to  be  trusted.  Should  she 
throw  herself  upon  his  magnanimity,  his  mercy  ? 


mam 


82G 


U3RBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


He  was  walking  very  slowly,  waiting  for  his 
answer.  He  intended  to  be  answered.  He  re- 
peated bis  question.     "  Do  you  love  me,  Lee  ? 

"  Lee  1 "     He  liad  never  called  her  this  before  to- 
night, how  sweet  it  sounded  on  his  lips  as  she 
whispered, 
"  Yes,  sir." 

«  As  a  minister  ?  "  he  said.    "  Of  course  every 
body  loves  and  reveres  the  minister.     Is  that  how 
you  love  nie,  Lee  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"Any  more  than  that  ?  " 
"  1  OS,  sir." 

"  You  do  not  mean,  you  cannot  mean,  that  you 
love  mo  just  as  ^ou  would  any  other  man  that 
sought  your  favor  ?  " 

"  No,  oh,  no !  "  sVie  cried  desperately.  "  I  could 
not  think  of  any  one  else  as  I  do  of  you.  And 
oh,  Mr.  Gardenell,  please  don't  torture  me  with 
any  more  questions,  but  let  me  go  away  quietly  as 

I  desire." 

She  tried  to  withdraw  her  hand  from  his  arm 
but  he  held  it  close.  He  bent  his  head  until  his 
I  .«ath  swept  her  cheek. 

"Do  my  questions  torture  you,  dearest?"  he 
said  tenderly.  "  Forgive  me  that  I  asked  them. 
I  could  not  have  done  so  had  not  my  hungry  heart 
demanded  some  hope,  had  not  you  so  successfully 
hidden  all  expression  of  your  favor,  though  my 
every  word  and  act  for  months,  must  have  divulged 
my  devotion.     Your    answers    to-night   do  not 


L,  JR. 


THE  OLD  STORY. 


827 


waiting  for  his 
iswered.     He  ve- 
)ve  me,  Lee?" 
her  this  before  to- 
1  his  lips  as  she 


'  Of  course  every 
iter.     Is  that  how 


3t  mean,  that  you 
Y  other  man  that 

srately.  "  I  could 
do  of  you.  And 
torture   me  with 

JO  away  quietly  as 

and  from  his  arm 
his  head  until  his 

you,  dearest?"  he 
tiat  I  asked  them. 
t  my  hungry  heart 
^ou  so  successfully 
favor,  though  my 
nust  have  divulged 
to-night    do   not 


torture  but  delight  me.  Suppose  I  should  tell  j  ou, 
what  is  quite  true,  that  you  are  dearer  to  me  tliaii 
any  earthly  thing  has  ever  been,  that  I  want  you 
for  my  own,  my  wife,  that  your  presence  and  your 
touch  are  to  me  exceeding  joy.  What  would  you 
say  ?  Do  you  love  me  well  enough  to  answer  as  I 
wish  to  all  that  ?  Oh,  Lee,  my  love,  what  would 
you  think  if  I  should  ask  you  to  walk  beside  me, 
sharing  my  weal  and  woe  all  the  days  of  my  life  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  God  loved  me,"  she  whispered 
a  clinging  in  her  soft  palm,  tears  in  her  voice. 

"  He  does  and  so  do  I — dearly,  dearly."  So  Her- 
bert Gardenell  did  his  wooing. 

He  led  her  into  the  house,  the  parlor,  and  under 
the  electric  light  while  he  lifted  her  face  to  his. 

I  want  to  see  my  happiness,"  he  said,  "  Oh,  Lee, 
how  your  love  has  crowned  me  I  " 

"  Mother  we  have  come  for  your  blessing,"  he 
said  as  thej'  stood  beside  her  bed. 

Yensie's  voice  trembled  a  little  as  she  joined  their 
hands.  "  Receive  ye  one  another,  as  Christ  also 
received  v.    to  the  glory  of  God,"  she  repeated. 

Later,  after  Lee  had  gone  vo  her  room,  they  still 
sat  on. 

"  Mother,  I  never  knew  it  was  possible  so  to 
love,"  said  Herbert.  "  Why,  even  you  are  dearer 
who  have  ever  been  so  dear.  I  can  never  have 
learned  to  love  before." 

She  drew  his  face  to  hers  and  held  him  close 
while  she  replied, 

"  You  will  say  that  again  to  me  some  day.  Her- 


:: 


828  BERBEBT  GABDENELL,  JR. 

bert,  when  we  both  reach  the  Beyond  L»ttd.  «;" 
-IwitI  a  wondaouB  Bmile-"  if  in  this  child-bi*, 
with  its  limitations,  we  can  so  love,  w  enjoy,  what 
will  it  be  when  f uU^phereU  manhood  «»;d  woma^ 
bood  is  attained?  When  we  w^Uce  m  the  R^«^ 
n,ction  likeness  with  Rosurrect.on  poaaibiUUes 
upon  us?" 


WUICU  WATt 


i  Land.  It" 
his  child-lixt, 
to  enjoy,  what 
1  and  womaor 
in  the  Resur- 
a  poMibiliUea 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

WHICH    WAY  ? 

"  Fear  not,  (weec  saint,  by  joy  to  be  undone  : 
Peace  comes  with  joy,  like  lilies  with  the  son." 

— AUCR  W.  ROLURS. 

A  TIMID  rap  on  Mrs.  Gardenell's  sitting-room 
door.    Lenore  answered  the  pleasant  "  Come." 

My  daughter."  The  lady  rose  and  clasped  the 
maiden  in  her  arms.  '*  I  vrish  you  knew  how 
happy  you  have  made  me,"  she  said.  "  It  is  not 
often  that  a  man  chooses  one  so  exactly  the  choice 
01  all  that  love  him.    You  are  favoi-ed,  dear  Lee." 

She  pushed  the  girl  away  from  her  a  little  as 
she  spoke  and  smiled  into  the  beautiful  face. 
There  wera  tears  in  the  gray  eyes  and  tlie  cheeks 
reddened  and  paled  under  the  gentle  scrutiny. 

"  You  are  too  kind,"  she  faliered,  "  but— but 
I  am  afraid  I  said  what  I  ought  not  to  have  said 
to  Herbert— Mr.  Gardenell — ^last  night,  and  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  now." 

Yensie  smiled.    She  had  half  expected  this. 
What    you    ought    not  to  have   said,"    she 
repeated.    "  Was  it  not  the  truth  ?  " 

Truth !  Lee  looked  puzzled  as  well  as  abashed. 


fgg;  HERBERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 

"  Oh,  yes.    I  told  him  nothing  but  the  truth." 
«  And  you  are  sure  you  love  Herbert,  Lee?" 
Sure,  Lee  was  sure  of  nothing  if  she  was  no.  sui-e 
of  this.    Every  throb  of  her  being  asserted  it  and 
had  all  the  long  night  and  morning  as  her  will 
battled  her  heart.  .,  .,   ^  •    xi,« 

»  Oh,  yes,  I  am  sure.  I  am  afraid  that  is  the 
trouble,  I  love  him  too  much.  I  cannot  seem  to 
give  him  up,  but  I  must." 

"  Who  says  you  must  give  him  up,  Lee  / 

"God."  ^^.    ,         . 

"Are  you  sure?    Who  gave  you  this  love  for 

The  girl  hesitated.  Who  gave  her  this  pure 
strong  passion  for  this  strong  pui-e  man?  Who 
but  her  Maker  ?    So  she  answered  again. 

"God."  .  .    .^  ^,  . 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  To  deny  it,  restrain  it  or  let 
it  outflow  and  enrich  and  bless  its  object  ?  Why 
do  vou  think  God  taught  you  to  love  Herbert  ? 

"Oh  I  don't  know  1  lam  troubled  and  perplexed. 
I  cannot  think  straight,  but  I  must  do  what  is 
right,  Mrs.  Gardenell.  I  have  always  wanted  to 
be  a  missionary." 

"So  has  Herbert."   .  ,     ,  j  . 

The  girl's  gray  eyes  flasi.ed  joyfully  to  the  lady  s 

**'"  i  know  it.    I  used  to  sympathize  so  much  with 
him  over  it  and  pray  for  him.    It  brought  him 
near  to  me  because  I  too  was  hindered. 
"  Who  hindered  you,  Lee  ?  " 


JR. 

ut  the  truth." 
ibert,  Lee?" 
ihe  was  noi  sui-e 
asserted  it  and 
ing  as  her  will 

•aid  that  is  the 
cannot  seem  to 

ap,  Lee  ?  " 

ou  this  love  for 

e  her  this  pure 
u-e  man?  Who 
1  again. 

b,  restrain  iter  let 
»  object?  Why 
lOve  Herbert  ?  " 
ed  and  perplexed, 
must  do  what  is 
Iways  wanted  to 

EuUy  to  the  lady's 

hize  so  much  with 
It  brought  him 
idered." 


WHICH  WAY? 


881 


♦•  God,"  slowly,  thoughtfully. 
"  Did  you  ever  wonder  why  ?  He  always  has  a 
purpose  in  all  He  does.  He  hindered  you  and  He 
hindered  Herbert.  He  threw  you  together,  taught 
you  each  to  love  the  other  above  every  earthly 
tlUng.  Now  this  did  not  happen,  it  was  planned. 
That  which  firet  attracted  you  to  Herbex-t  was  ex- 
actly what  first  attracted  Herbert  to  you— your 
common  denial  of  a  good  you  coveted.  Was  there 
no  object  in  this?  How  God  shines  through  it 
alll" 

The  girl's  radiant  face  was  lifted  to  the  speaker's, 
but  a  shadow  crossed  it. 

"Yes,  it  looks  like  His  leading.  But  two 
weeks  ago — Missionary  Sunday— T  feel  sure  He 
called  me  fully  to  the  Foreign  Mission  work.  I 
must  not  let  anything,  not  even  such  a  love  as 
this,  hinder  me." 

"No,  certainly  not.  Lee,  do  you  think  that 
Herbert  would  even  wish  to  keep  you  from 
strictest  obedience  to  the  will  of  God  ?  " 

"  Never ! "  she  cried.    "  I  know  he  would  not." 
"  That  is  why  you  love  him,  is  it  not?  because 
he  is  so  true,  so  pure,  so  Christly  ?  " 

"  Just  that,"  she  answered  eagerly.  "  It  makes 
me  better  just  to  look  in  his  face  and  hear  his 
voice.    It  makes  me  love  God  more." 

"  And  yet  you  think,  dear,  that  God,  who  has 
brought  all  this  to  pass — who  makes  Herbert 
what  he  is — who  has  taught  you  two  to  love  each 
other  and  yet  love  His  will  better  than  each  other, 


882 


UERBERT  OARDENELL,  JB. 


will  let  you  fail  of  His  will  if  you  cherish  in  a 
natural  way  the  love  He  sent  and  fostei-ed?" 

"  I  have  80  many  thoughts,"  said  thegiil  timidly. 
*'  I  liave  wondered  if  God  may  not  have  set  me 
free  on  purpose  that  I  might  do  that  which  I 
longed  and  was  not  able  to  do  in  other  years.  I 
realized  that  Sabbath  morning  that  the  last  bond 
was  loosed,  I  was  absolutely  free  to  follow  Him. 
I  do  not  know  why  I  did  not  realize  it  before." 

♦'You  had  hardly  time,  your  sorrow  was  too 
close  and  the  new  surroundings  too  real.  Then, 
perhaps,  God  was  giving  time  for  another  tie  to 
strengthen,  to  cement." 

"  Then  why  wake  me  at  all  to  the  realization  of 
my  liberty  and  His  call  ?" 

"  That  He  might  prove  to  yourself  what  is  plain 
to  His  heart— your  willingness  to  fowake  all  and 
follow  Him.  Lee,  you  would  not  hesitate  to  sever 
any  tie  at  His  command  however  your  heart  miglit 

shrink?" 

The  voice  was  low  but  unswerving  that  an- 
swered, "  I  had  decided  to  do  that  before  I  sought 
yon  this  morning."  , 

"  Lee,  if  my  son  was  anything  but  what  he  is, 
if  his  consecration  and  devotion  did  not  measure 
fully  up  to  yours,  if  in  anything  it  seemed  possible 
for  him  to  stand  between  you  and  the  will  of  God 
—farther  than  that— if  he  had  not  himself  received 
like  yourself  a  ell  to  this  same  work— a  call  I 
feel  sure  he  must  some  day  be  permitted  to  answer 
—I  would  hardly  dare  advise  you  as  I  do.    But 


mamm 


'ou  cherish  in  a 
fostered  ?" 

the  gill  timidly, 
lot  have  set  me 
b  that  which  I 
I  other  years.  I 
tat  the  last  bond 

to  follow  Him. 
ze  it  before." 

sorrow  was  too 
too  real.  Then, 
>r  another  tie  to 

;he  realization  of 

self  what  ia  plniu 

a  forsake  all  and 

;  hesitate  to  sever 

your  heart  miglit 

Bverving  that  an- 
at  before  I  sought 

;  but  what  he  is, 
did  not  measure 
it  seemed  possible 
i  the  will  of  God 
»t  himself  received 
te  work — a  call  I 
)rmitted  to  answer 
on  as  I  do.     But 


WHICH  WAYf 


8S3 


look  at  the  facts,  my  child,  see  how  exactly  your 
oxperienoef  match.  Yon  speak  of  the  l5st  tie 
binding  you  to  your  native  land  as  severed.  But 
is  that  true?  Does  not  your  a£Fecticn  for  Herbert 
bind  you  as  truly  as  his  affection  for  me  lHnd» 
him  ?  Does  God  give  yui  liberty  to  say  with 
your  lips  the  nay  that  gives  a  lie  to  your  heart  ? 
to  refuse  the  positive,  assured  position  of  helpful- 
ness and  honor  open  to  you  for  what  is  as  y<)t 
dimly  defined  and  uncertain  ?  Does  He  not  ask 
you  rather  to  take  a  first  step  in  faith  that  the  next 
will  be  made  plain  ?  Are  you  not  willing  to  wait 
with  one  whom  God  Himself  seems  to  have  chosen 
fciyou?" 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes  then  Lee 
spoke.  '*  Does  not  God  sometimes  ask  us  to  give 
up  our  dearest  for  his  sake  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  they  stand  directly  across  the  path 
of  His  will  for  us.  Seldom  when  we  are  desiring 
in  all  things  to  reach  that  perfect  will,  and  shaping 
our  lives  and  our  loves  to  His  patteiu.  We  should 
take  great  care  to  have  His  wisdou^  in  such  mattei-s, 
dear." 

"  Why  should  He  call  roe  if  I  am  not  to  go?  " 
this  was  the  evei^recurring  question. 

"  Who  sajrs  you  are  not  to  go  ?  not  I,  not  He, 
who  has  bade  you  walk  beside  Hia  anointed  son. 
Herbert  might  ask  that  question  also,  Lee.  Delays 
are  not  nays,  God's  'wait'  in  not  denial.  It  is 
often  but  the  preparation  for  a  more  abounding 
*  yea*  a  more  peremptory  ♦  go.' 


*i\ 


834 


nEHHERT  GARDENELL,  JR. 


"The  Syrephenic^an  woman  bo  learned  when 
Christ  said  to  her,  ♦  Be  it  unto  thee  even  m  thou 
wilt.'     Beyond  those  unanswering  lips  and  avoid- 
ing  eyes  she   saw  the    throbbing   Christ-Heart. 
The  blessing  »he  had  sought  for  one,  blessed  two 
then  and  many  a  thousand  since.    '  My  daughter ' 
8ho  cried  out  of  the  lin.itations  of  her  finitenesH. 
But  His  infinity  embraced  all  the  tormented  sons 
and  daughtm-8  ..tall  'Jie  raotliers  in  the  age  to  come. 
ii  To  i;r'>«"me  on  God'rf  lov^  is  to  honor  his  heart. 
^;av  he  not  have  delayed  Herbert  that  he  might  find 
you,  and  you  that  you  might  find  him?    My  dear 
child,  is  it  not  possible— since  it  is  so  difficult  for  us 
to  know  ourselve.'— Cnat  om  retxson  for  the  assur- 
ance with  which  tlio  call  to  another  field  came  to  you 
that  S'vbbath  moruiiig  may  have  been  the  apparent 
hopelessnens  of  the  love  you  had  for  my  son?" 

The  girl's  eyes  fell  but  she  did  not  reply.    Mrs. 
Gardenell  smiled.  • 

"  It  is  written  oie  shall  chase  f»  thousand  and 
two  put  ten  thousand  to  flight  :~Two  of  one  heart 
and  one  mind,  Lee;-of  His  heart  and  His  mmd. 
Oh  my  darling,  that  Canaanitish  woman  and  you 
and  I  are  kin.    Not  more  infinitely  finite  was  she 
in  her  weakness  and  her  need  than  are  we.     And 
God  is  as  infinitely  willing  to  chatjgeour  weakness 
into  strength  as  he  was  hei-s,  and  our  need  into 
boundless  stora ;  to  ar,swer  the  daring  of  our  little 
faith  with  His  almig'aty  'Even  as  thou  wilt. 

The  girl  was  weaping  softly.    "I  have  been 
afraid  of  prosperity,"  she  said.    "I  felt  that  this 


-  w"-,«*BM?ax««er^ 


0  learned  when 
)e  even  as  thou 
J  lips  and  avoid- 
ig  Christ-Heart, 
one,  blessed  two 

My  daughter ' 
of  her  finiteness. 
tormented  sons 
i  the  age  to  come. 
X)  honor  his  Seart. 
that  he  might  find 
ihim?  My  dear 
BO  difficult  tor  us 
3on  for  the  asstir- 
r  field  came  to  you 
been  the  apparent 

1  for  my  son  ?  " 

I  not  reply.    Mrs. 

se  p-  thoujand  and 
-Two  of  one  heart 
sart  and  His  mind, 
h  woman  and  you 
tely  finite  was  she 
han  are  we.     And 
lange  our  weakness 
and  our  need  into 
daring  of  our  little 
as  thou  wilt.' " 
ly.    "I  have  been 
"  I  felt  that  this 


WniCU  WAYt 


886 


blessedness  could  only  have  come  .«  a  test  of  ray 
fidelity  to  God  in  giving  it  up.  I  Ljedso  much  to 
grow,  I  am  so  immature,  and  I  have  always  felt 
sorrow  to  be  the  great  grace-grower." 

"  Sorrow  and  joy.  They  go  together,  and  God 
gives  us  always  tlie  most  of  the  last.  Joy  brings 
sorrow's  fruit  to  perfection  as  the  sun  ripens  what 
rain  and  soil  develop.  Oh,  Lee,  my  child,  my 
precious  one,  you  are  yourself  an  answered  prayer, 
the  answer  to  much  prayer. "  I  thank  God  for  you." 

They  were  still  quietly  talking  together,  Lee 
with  her  head  on  his  mother's  bosom,  when  Herbert 
entered  unannounced. 

"  Am  I  intruding  ?  "  he  asked  in  the  happy  tone 
of  a  man  who  fears  not  his  answer. 

*'  We  are  only  discussing  calls,"  said  Lee,  flush- 
ing under  his  smile. 

"  I  hope  mamma  has  defined  your  position  as 
clearly  as  she  has  mine,"  he  answered.  '  Called 
to  the  field,  appointed  to  the  recruiting  office,'  I 
think  that  is  how  you  put  it,  mother.  Lst  me 
suggest  that  you  make  Lee's  read  thus, '  Called  to 
love  and  be  loved.' " 

Something  in  the  glance  his  F.ffianced  flashi^d 
him  assured  Herbert  she  had  read  the  deeper 
meaning  of  his  words. 

"  To  love,"  she  cried  eagerly,  "  and  to  love  Him 
utterly  is,  after  all,  doing  His  highest  will.  Love 
asks  us  to-day  to  walk  unafraid  and  content  in  the 
path  he  opens  to-day,  watching  His  eyes  and  trust- 
ing His  heart  for  the  leading  of  to-morrow." 


■•*1K..- 


886 


BERUKRT  OARDKNKLL,  JR. 


4. 


The  eyes  of  mother  and  son  met.  M«.  Garde- 
nell  led  the  maiden  to  the  young  man'«  side  -^nd 
went  to  the  organ,  running  her  fingere  ligJitly  over 

"  He  will  have  to  teach  me  tx>  be  u-  -aid  of  joy," 
Lee  said  as  she  stood  before  her  lc\  with  drooi>- 
ing  eyes.  "  Sorrow  and  hai-dship  -re  old  friends, 
I  know  their  faces.  But  this,"  her  voice  faltered, 
"  it  seems  almost  a  sin  to  be  so  happy." 

"Heresy,  heresy,"  he  said  merrily.  Then  with 
tender  sympathy  in  smile  and  voice,  "  It  is  written 
nay,  commanded,  '  Rejoice  evermore.'  Joy  is  the 
language  of  heaven  on  earth,  Lee,  and  foreign  to 
our  tongues.  But  the  children  of  the  better 
country  acquire  it  readily." 

And  from  the  other  side  of  the  room  came  a 

voice  sweet  and  pure  and  thrilling,  as  when  it  en- 

ohanted  thousands; 

"  I  know  not  what  Is  before  me, 
Ood  gently  holds  my  eyes, 
And  o'er  each  step  of  ray  onward  nay 

He  makes  new  scenes  to  rise. 
And  every  joy  He  semis  me  cines 
A  sweet  and  glad  surprise." 

And  two  clear  young  volues  joined  her  ou  the  clos- 
ing  verse ;  one  a  tenor,  one  an  alto. 

"  So  on  I  go,  not  knowing, 
I  would  not  if  I  might." 

And  as  the  words  fell  from  their  lips  two  hands 
met  each  other  in  earnest  clasp,  and  two  hearts 
joined  in^i  unuttered  amen. 


Pf>.  .L^rH.«*ftB»Wia*C<WW»V»BBt^fl*y«-.*r«'rt^r 


MABB1A0JI-BELL8  AND  FA RK WELLS. 


R87 


M«.  Garde- 
iii'it  Hide  '\nd 
)  ligJitly  over 

•aid  of  joy," 

with  droo[>- 

e  old  friondH, 

/oice  faltered, 

.  Then  with 
»*  It  is  written 
.'  Joy  ia  the 
nd  foreign  to 
of  the  better 

room  came  a 
18  when  it  en- 


Inay 


MS 


ler  on  the  clos- 


ipg  two  hands 
nd  two  hearts 


. ,-  (wi-r-fisftFaiW! 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

MABBIAOB-BELLS  AND  FAREWELLS. 

"  We've  only  to  wait, 

In  the  face  of  fate 

For  the  green  grasa  under  the  snow." 

— Amnik  a.  Pbkstoit. 

"  The  children  of  Ood  need  never  say  good-bye." 

— Chablkb  Oeoros. 

Herbert  wrotui  a  letter  to  Africa.  We  have  only 
room  for  a  short  extract. 

"  I  did  not  run  away  from  you  that  night  bo 
long  ago,  when  we  were  walking  on  the  veranda 
ana  you  spoke  to  me  of  Lee,  Ofive,  because  I  was 
offended.  No,  it  was  because  you  read  my  heart 
and  I  dared  not  stop  and  listen  any  longer.  But 
yon  were  right,  and  your  words  never  left  me. 
Lee  and  I  always  did  belong  to  each  other  and  we 
have  found  it  out.  Before  this  letter  reaches  you 
she  will  be  my  wife." 

•'  Come  .  here  this  moment,  Stanton,  I  cannot 
wait,"  cried  a  little  woman  authoritatively  from  the 
veranda  of  the  mission-house  to  a  tall  dark  man 
standing  a  little  way  down  the  compound. 

**  Isn't  it  beautiful  ?  "  as  he  approached  obedi- 


1W^ 


f-it*  ^-l* 


BBS 


IIKHUKHT  OARDKNKhL,  JR. 


ently  and  read  the  missive  nhe  thrust  into  hw 
hand.  "  Don't  you  wish  they  were  coniing  here 
for  their  wedding  trip  ?  " 

•♦  I  can  wait,"  answered  the  gentleman  smiling. 
♦♦  1  am  so  sure   tlioy  will  take  a  trip  here  some 

day."  ,      „      ., 

"  Say  it  again,  my  brown-eyed  prophet,  siud 
his  wife  rapturously.  "  Say  it  again.  What  you 
gay  I  believe,  your  predictions  so  nearly  alv/ays 
prove  true.  I  must  go  and  tell  Hany  the  news." 
They  went  on  tlieir  wedding  trip  not  to  Africa 
but  to  one  of  our  western  states.  Aunt  Jessie  had 
written,  "  Bring  her  to  me,  Herbert,  I  want  to  see 
her,  I  want  to  put  her  next  to  Fred  in  my  heart :  " 
and  Lee  chose  to  go. 

Ray,  'hose  work  for  the  Mission  Society  was 
ended,  and  who  had  offered  himself  for  appoint- 
ment as  a  missionary  to  South  America,  came  on 
to  fill  Herbert's  pulpit  while  he  was  gone  and  to 
"tie  the  knot"  as  he  expressed  it.  He  was  im- 
mensely amused  over  his  small  daughter's  evident 
jealousy  of  her  uncle's  friend. 

»  Your  nose  is  broken,  Bunch,"  he  said  solemnly 
the  night  after  their  arrival,  as  the  child  stood  look- 
ing askance  at  Leo. 

Slie  put  up  her  hand  to  the  aforenamed  article. 
»♦  It  doan'  feel  like  it  am,  papa." 

"  It  isn't  hurt  the  teentiest  mite,"  said  her  uncle, 
taking  her  in  his  arms.  But  she  soon  clambered 
down,  uneasily  hovering  about  the  young  lady  in 
w>om  she  was  interested.      Evidently  'ler  mmd 


inmnr  ■rtir"  ■■■"""  ■—"-■■^i*- 


MARHIAOJS-BELLa  AND  FAREWELLS.       889 


iBt  into  his 
soniing  here 

lan  smilinpf. 
here  some 

ophet,"  siiid 
What  you 
early  ahvays 
y  the  newB." 
lot  to  Africa 
it  Jessie  had 
[  want  to  see 
t  my  heart : 

Society  was 

for  appoint- 

rica,  came  on 

I  gone  and  to 

He  was  im- 

hter's  evident 

said  solemnly 
ild  stood  look- 

)amed  article. 

said  her  uncle, 
3on  clambered 
young  lady  in 
ntly  'ler  mind 


was  weighted  with  matters  tno  great  to  In)  kept 
witli  Hrtfety. 

^^You  is  my  mo$t  auntie,  an'  my  papa  is  goin' 
to  make  you  my  truli/  auiitio  an'  gib  you  my 
name,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  dear,"  in  sudden  distress, 
♦♦everybody  gettin'  anuz/,er  name  but  me.  My 
Aunt  Ollie  isn't  her  own  name  an'  you  is,  an' — 
an' — "  in  a  burst  of  despair,  ♦♦  I'se  afraid  Uncle 
Ilervit  is  somebody  else  1 " 

Everybody  laughed  over  this  outburst,  her 
father  'declaring  it  was  like  the  "goody-goody 
stories  "  founded  on  fact. 

Herbert  took  the  little  one  again  to  his  arms 
and  kept  her  happy. 

♦»  Uncle  Hervit,"  she  whispered,  "  my  papa  is 
a  great  change  man." 

'♦Is  he?" 

"  Yes,  he  changes  people's  names  an' — an' — you 
don't  like  any  other  girl  better'n  me  ?  " 

♦♦  Not  any  other  little  girl,"  answered  Herbert, 
keeping  within  the  boundaries  of  truth. 

♦'  Then  I  wish  you'd  look  's  if  you  didn't." 

They  were  married  in  church  to  please  Herbert's 
congregation.  The  little  girl  seemed  intensely  iii- 
terestfcd  in  the  ceremony,  watching  her  uncle  out 
of  jealous  eyes.  Eddie,  whose  charge  she  wiis,  had 
been  obliged  to  appeal  to  her  conscience  to  prevent 
her  from  "  'terrupting  "  the  proceedings.  They 
were  hardly  over  before  her  little  hand  slipped 
into  Herbert's  and  she  insisted  on  riding  back  to 
the  house  in  the  same  carriage  and  on  his  knee. 


840 


UERBERT  OABDENSLL,  Jh. 


ht' 


They  hud  scarcely  reached  liome  before  she  drew 
Lee's  head  down  *o  her  lips  and  "  whipstered  "  in  a 
voice  her  father  heard  several  feet  away. 

"  Say,  doau'  you  fink  you  ia  too  big  for  Uncle 
Hervit  to  carry  on  his  shoulder?" 

"  Much  too  big,"  answered  the  lady  with  em- 
phasis. "  Besides,  I  would  not  want  to  lx>  jarried 
there." 

"  Wouldn't  yoii  ?  "  in  surprise.  "  Why,  I  would. 
Say,"  with  a  decisive  hug,  "  I  do  love  you,  Aunt 
Lee,  if  Uncle  Hervit  does  look  at  you." 

The  midnight  trai.x  whirled  them  away. 

There  was  b  great  deal  of  talking  and  planning 
going  on  at  the  old  parsonage  while  the  young 
couple  were  gone.  There  were  serious  decisions 
reached,  for  Eddie  felt  sure  at  last  that  he  was 
to  accompany  Raymond  back  to  South  .Vmerica. 
In  his  estimation  there  existed  no  needier  field, 
and  none  for  which  he  w:is  better  fitted.  When 
Herbert  and  Leo  returned  it  was  to  find  both 
brothei-8  under  appointment  and  expecting  to  leava 
their  nativj  land  together  in  a  few  months. 

"  So  it  seems  our  family  circle  is  tr*  be  a  triangle," 
Herbert  said  to  his  mother,  and  it  wad  not  without 
some  feeling  of  loss  as  well  as  gain  that  he  again 
picked  up  his  work.  He  had  Iiardly  well  begun, 
however,  wh^n  an  important  letter  reached  him. 
It  w?3  written  at  the  dict^tiou  of  the  executive 
coinmii;teo  of  the  mission  board  he  served,  and  had 
received  their  hearty  approval. 

Aware  of  his  former  desire  to  engage  in  the 


;,r,;i».,'IIWi|"!"lir 


afore  she  drew 

ipstered  "  in  a 

vay. 

big  for  Uncle 

ady  with  em- 
;  to  be  carried 

Why,  I  would, 
jve  you,  Aunt 
u. 
away. 

and  planning 
Lie  the  young 
ioiis  decisions 
t  that  he  was 
outh  .Vmerica. 
t  T'.eef'.ier  field, 
fitted.    When 

to  find  both 
ecting  to  leave 
months, 
be  a  triangle," 
OA  not  without 

tliat  he  again 
ily  well  begun, 
•  reached  him. 

the  executive 
lerved,  and  had 

engage  in  the 


MARRIAGE-BELLS  AND  FAREWELLS.        841 

foreign  work,  and  uncertain  whether  the  reason 
which  then  hindered  him  still  held  good,  they 
wrote  to  inquire  if  he  would  entertain  a  proposi- 
tion to  serve  his  board  in  China.  They  had  need 
immediately  of  a  strong  man  to  fill  an  important 
position  suddenly  left  vacant.  He  was  already 
familiar  with  the  language  and  work.  They  knew 
of  no  other  individual  in  the  denomination  better 
fitted  to  hold  the  place  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of 
all.  Would  he  not  give  the  subject  his  careful  and 
prayerful  consideration  before  deciding  to  refuse  ? 

It  was  not  Africa,  but  it  was  missions.  There 
was  a  tender  almost  vvigtf  ul  look  in  his  eyes  as  he 
placed  the  sheet  in  his  wife's  hand.  There  was 
something  of  the  same  look  in  hen)  as  she  perused 
it. 

"  Herbert,  this  may  be  God's  open  door." 

"  But  mother,"  he  answered. 

"  There  are  no  buts  with  God,"  she  replied. 

"No,  hitt" — smiling — "she  could  not  go.  I 
must  not  leave  her  alone.  She  was  my  father's 
choice  gift  to  my  care." 

"  And  your  heavenly  Father's  as  veil.  But— 
you  see  I  can  use  tlie  woi-d — I  am  looking  for  an 
open  door,  I  feel  almost  sure  it  will  come  soon." 

"  Little  wife  but  not  of  little  faith,"  he  said 
fondly.  "  I  have  not  yet  considered  the  foreign 
work  from  the  standpoint,  of  my  new  possession. 
It  means  so  much  more — ^involves  not  my  sacrifice 
only  now  but — doubly  mine— yours :  I  am  not 
certain  I  would  not  dread  it." 


I 


842 


BERBERT  OARDENELL,  JR. 


I 


"  Then,  surely  I  shall  cease  to  be  a  blessing." 
She  came  to  his  side  and  lifted  his  face  to  her  o  .vn 
with  her  hand.  "You  are  mistaken,  Herbert," 
she  said,  "  I  read  the  contradiction  of  your  words 
in  your  eyes.  You  would  rather  have  me  in  direst 
danger  than  out  of  God's  will  and  in  His  will  is  no 
danger." 

"  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  say  of  you,  my  wife, 
what  my  father  said  to  his— and  greater  compli- 
ment or  more  deserved,  never  a  woman  received 
— '  you  have  always  met  my  spirit's  highest  aspi- 
rations before  I  voiced  them,  held  me  to  not  from 
God's  best,  helped  not  hindered  me,  in  reaching  the 
fullest  possible  expression  of  His  will.'  " 

"  I  should  never  want  you  to  say  less.  Yet  it 
will  be  the  God  in  me  alone  that  will  make  it  pos- 
sible," she  made  humble  reply. 

"  We  will  not  mention  this  letter  to  mother," 
she  said  presently. 

"Not  for  the  world,  my  darling.  We  will  just 
wait  and  pray  and  know  His  will  is  sure  to  be 

done." 

"  It  is  done  already  since  we  wish  it  to  be  done," 
she  whispered. 

It  was  only  the  next  day,  and  Herbert  was  in 
his  mother's  room. 

My  son,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  it  is  time  for  me 
to  set  you  free." 

"  Mother,"  he  answered  gently,  "  have  I  ever 
felt  bound  by  your  love?  " 

"  Never,  dear,  never.    At  least  you  have  never 


MABRIAGE-BELLB  AND  FAREWELLS.       848 


a  blessing." 
3  to  lier  o  yn 
n,  Herbert," 
your  words 
me  in  direst 
lis  will  is  no 

ou,  my  wife, 
sater  compli- 
nan  received 
highest  aspi- 
5  to  not  from 
reaching  the 

less.     Yet  it 
make  it  pos- 

to  mother," 

We  will  just 
B  sure  to  be 

b  to  be  done," 

srbert  was  in 

IS  time  for  me 

'have  I  ever 

u  have  never 


made  me  conscious  of  it.  But  I  think  I  shall  soon 
lose  my  self-respect,  begin  to  despise  myself  if  I 
hinder  you  further  in  the  first  desire  of  your 
heart.  Olive  is  gone,  Harry  is  gone,  Eddie  is  soon 
going." 

Her  son  tried  to  stop  her  mouth  with  kisses,  but 
she  went  bravely  on. 

"  Your  father  put  a  limit  to  your  term  of  service. 
It  was  for  a  time — until  the  boys  were  grown  and 
educated.    The  time  is  past." 

"  Yet  I  will  not  give  you  up,  mother,  or  leave 
you  alone." 

"  No,  my  darling,  you  will  not.  I  am  going  to 
leave  you — think  of  my  courage! — going  with 
Raymond  and  Eddie  who  need  me  much  more 
than  you  do.  Eddie  is  my  baby,  I  must  keep  close 
to  him." 

Her  son  was  taken  utterly  by  surprise. 

"  Mother  I "  he  cried,  "  Mother  1  have  you  con- 
sidered what  all  this  means  ?  your  health  ?  " 

"I  have  consulted  a  doctor,"  she  answered. 
"  Horace  net  only  gives  his  permission,  but  favors 
the  change.  He  thinks  it  will  be  a  benefit.  Her- 
bert, my  dear  boy,  you  are  astonished,  troubled ! 
I  did  not  want  you  worried  unnecessarily,  I  did 
not  wish  you  to  know  of  my  thought  until  I 
was  sure  it-  was  not  mine  only,  but  God's." 
Then  she  clasped  her  arms  about  him  and  cried 
a  little. 

"  It  is  the  hardest  thing  of  all  to  part  from  you," 
she  said.    "  I  am  very  human,  and  never  mother 


■  -^-^r. 


M- 


844  HERBERT  OARDENELL,  JE. 

had  such  a  son  as  mine.  No,  dear,  you  must  not 
reason  with  me  or  urge  me.  Eddie  and  Ray  iHjed 
me,  and  this  is  settled,  Herbert,  I  settled  it  on  my 

knees." 

So  quickly  did  Lee's  door  open  I 

Mm  Gardenell  was  touched,  indeed,  when  she 
^vas  informed  of  the  letter  and  its  contente,  and 
found  her  leading  so  apparently  in  the  order  of 
Goal's  wai.  All  that  perplexed  bci  was  the  field 
to  which  her  son  was  appointed. 

"  It  is  China,  Herbert?  "  she  said,  a  questioning 
inflection  in  her  voice. 

"  It  is  the  will  of  God,"  he  answered.  Long 
since  I  settled  this,  mother,  that  I  was  called  not 
to  Africa  or  America  or  China,  but  to  the  will  of 

^How  quickly  things  happen  when  God  gets 
^eady  I  Only  a  few  weeks  and  every  plan  of  life 
seemingly  changed.  Only  seemingli,,  however, 
since  their  plans  and  His  wowj  one. 

It  was  not  without  some  natural  sorrow  that  the 
old  ties  to  church  and  home  were  riven  ;  the  church 
and  home  so  long  and  so  peculiarly  identified  with 
the  life  of  this  family.     Alone  with  his  God,  Her- 
bert  bade  farewell  to  the  old  pulpit  in  the  very 
spot  where  his  voice  had  arrested  the  feet  of  a  sin- 
ner, and  turned  them  into  the  road  which  led  to 
martyrdom  and  glory.    There  he  solemnly  gave  up 
the  charge  he  had  accepted  that  night  so  long  ago, 
and  covenanted  again  with  God  for  another  work 
to  another  people. 


msmuumm 


t. 

on  must  not 
,nd  Ray  iwed 
tied  it  on  my 

ed,  when  she 
contents,  and 
the  order  of 
was  the  field 

a  questioning 

Bred.  •*  Long 
ras  called  not 
,  to  the  will  of 

hen  God  gets 
ry  plan  of  life 
glif,  however, 

jorrow  that  the 
en;  the  church 
identified  with 
his  God,  Her- 
rtt  in  the  very 
ti©  feet  of  a  sin- 
4  which  led  to 
ilemnly  gave  up 
rht  so  long  ago, 
r  another  work 


MABBIAOS-BELLS  AND  FAREWELLS.       845 

Tenderly  they  went  from  room  to  room  of  the 
parsonage,  each  like  the  face  of  an  old  friend,  each 
with  some  story  done  up  in  its  very  furniture. 
The  nursery — play-i-oom  ?nd  work-room — mother's 
room — the  old  study — places  cf  birth  and  death, 
which  is  only  another  bii-th. 

However  it  was  better  than  it  might  have  been. 
At  Herbert's  suggestion,  Eddie  Campbell  had  been 
called  to  his  old  pastorate,  and  he  would  occupy 
the  house.  It  was  pleasant  to  know  the  dear  old 
rooms  were  still  to  be  consecrated  to  pure  family 
life.  That  the  voices  of  little  children  and  of  holy 
song  and  prayer  were  to  hold  it  true  to  its  highest 
uses.  Surely  these  new-comers  could  only  get 
blessing  by  their  sojourn  where  the  very  atmos- 
phere was  charged  with  a  present  Christ. 

Both  mission  parties  were  to  start  from  their 
native  land  about  the  same  time.  Their  farewells 
were  said,  not  on  the  wharf  at  the  out-going  of 
some  steamer,  but  in  the  old  home  where  a  large 
company  assembled  to  say  good-bye ;  and  at  thb 
i-ailway  station  in  the  morning  where  a  select  few 
watched  as  they  steamed  away  toward  the  Pacific 
coast.  Thei-o  they  were  to  separate  from  each 
other  and  go  their  different  ways. 

Last  days  are  so  fleetixig.  One  beautiful  clear 
autumn  morning,  those  we  have  followed  so  long 
gave  last  embraces,  said  last  words,  took  last 
lingering  looks  in'j  each  other's  faces  as  their 
steamers  lay  at  anchor  almost  side  by  side. 

"You  remember  what  Stanton  wrote  us,  Her- 


."^It, 


840  HERBEHT  GARDEN  ELL,  JR. 

bert,"  whispered  his  mother,  "  that  heaven  is  very 
near  and  direct  from  the  foreign  field?  If  I  see 
your  father  first  I  will  tell  him  you  are  lifting  the 
banner  of  the  cross  in  China." 

"  And  if  I  see  him  firat,"  he  answered,  "  I  will 
tell  hira  you  are  repeating  in  word  and  song  the 
old,   old    story  to  the    lest  daughters    of  South 

America." 

" Oh,  the  glory  of  itl  "  she  cried,  "the  glory  of 
it,  that  He  should  count  me  worthy  I  I  never 
dared  hope  so  much;  my  cup  runneth  over. 
God's  thoughts  are  always  so  much  higher  than 
our  thoughts." 

"  Lee,"  turning  to  take  her  daughter  to  her 
arms,  "  I  never  aspired  to  be  more  than  the  mother 
of  missionaries.  He  has  made  me  a  missionary 
mother.  Never  a  holy  desire  of  my  heart,  but 
sooner  or  later  He  has  satisfied  it." 

"  Then,"  said  Herbert  reverently,  "  I  shall  see 

Africa." 

And  the  Angel  of  Destiny  smiled,  for  he  knew 
that  it  was  written  in  the  plan  of  the  great  King 
that  in  a  day  not  so  very  far  off  this  man  would 
be  a  necessity  in  the  Dark  Land.  That  Herbert 
and  Lee  should  clasp  in  their  loving  arms  the 
brown-eyed  prophet  and  his  little  wife  and  noble 
Harry  Gardenell  and  Ruth.  And  though  they 
were  not  to  linger  together,  must  labor  many  miles 
apart,  they  were  yet  to  meet  occasionally,  and  ever 
know  that  all  their  toil  was  for  the  same  people, 
for  the  same  end— the  rising,  amid  the  dense  dark- 


.'.^..M^tMMiNMWCRMef^^ 


MARRIAGE-BELLS  AND  FAREWELLS.       347 


heaven  is  very 
ield  ?  If  I  see 
L  are  lifting  the 

iwered,  "  I  will 
d  and  song  the 
ters    of  South 

,  "  the  glory  of 

rthy !    I  never 

runneth    over. 

ich  higher  than 

aughter  to  her 
than  the  mother 
lie  a  missionaiy 
f  my  heart,  but 

tly,  "  I  shall  see 

ed,  for  he  knew 
f  the  great  King 
this  man  would 
..  That  Herbert 
loving  arms  the 
B  wife  and  noble 
nd  though  they 
labor  many  miles 
sionally,  and  ever 
the  same  people, 
d  the  dense  dark- 


!«*JJ'f;i:;KK!««.<'- 


ness,  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  witli  healing  in 
His  wings. 

And  the  angel,  catching  already  some  strains  in 
the  heavenly  chorus  raised  by  voices  trained  beside 
the  lowly  workers  in  the  jungles  of  Africa,  knew 
that  it  would  be  swelled  by  ten  thousand  more  in 
the  great  Reaping-day  who  should  call  this  man, 
this  woman  blessed. 

But  their  eyes  were  holden  and  they  could  not 
see.  But  they  coulu  believe,  and  that  is  the  next 
thing  to  omniscience. 

"  Herv,  father  and  brother  both  to  me,  good-bye. 
I  will  be  true,  God  helping  me,  to  your  teachings 
and  His  will,"  said  Eddie,  embracing  Herbert  and 
kissing  Lse. 

"  Here's  to  long  service  before  promotion,  old 
fellow  1 "  said  Ray,  as  he  gave  his  brotlier  his  hand 
in  a  parting  grip. 

"  Amen,"  was  the  hearty  response,  as  Herbert 
unclasped  two  dimpled  hands  from  about  his  neck 
and  laid  his  little  niece  in  her  father's  arms. 

The  two  boats  floated  out  of  harbor  together, 
each  party  on  either  deck  saying  last  words  before 
they  began  to  drift  apart- 
Farther  and  farther  away  from  each  other. 
Herbert — with  his  wife  clinging  to  his  arm — saw 
his  mother's  face  growing  dim  in  the  distance  and 
lifted  his  own  to  the  skies.  God  must  doubly  keep 
her  now.  His  heart  seemed  breaking,  yet  not 
altogether  with  soitow.  Over  the  sea^ir  his  voice 
floated  in  holy  song : 


'^1 


"*V.- 


UBRBERT  OARDKNELL,  JB. 


"Oh.  what  wonder!  how  ftmsslngl 
Jeuus  glorious  King  of  kings, 

Deigns  to  call  mc  Ills  beloved, 
Lot   ...e  rest  beneath  His  wlng«. 

There  ww  a  tremor  in  his  wife's  alto  m  she 
joiner'  him,bv    t -re   was  no  tremor  in  the  ^ 

•  •. ii ^41.  .X  afAamPTthat  '  n.<i!nb 


umr^i^^^ '-    &'^'-  *®  °*^  ''^  steamer  that  -  ft..ght 
up  tSii^  . ,sitKr«  HHK  faimg  it  back. 

•'  ,v .; ;.    J»«iuil  »H  'or  J«>^« 

Kftj,    J,  '  ow  beneath  HU  wings." 

And  Raymond,  and  Eddie,  and  Gatty  joined  her 

with  the  two  dear  ones  floating  from  them-m  the 

repetition  oi  the  same. 

»  All  for  Jesus !  all  for  Jesus  I 

Resting  now  beneath  His  wings. ' 

XHB  V>SD. 


,i«w«iaisri(»s5sa»K<i«»'- 


-^'> 


mil    mill. 


j's  alto  as  she 
nor  in  the  tri- 
oer  that « ft>.ght 


rtngi." 

Jatty  joined  her 
m  them— in  the 


irioflk'^ 


A' 


A'^-- 

x-^-^. 


I 


